


The Darkness Gets Bigger

by GemmaRose



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Acceptance, Accidents, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Asphyxiation, Assumptions, Begging, Betrayal, Captivity, Character Death, Clothed Sex, Come Inflation, Come Swallowing, Crying, Destruction, Devotion, Dildos, Disassociation, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Druid Lance (Voltron), Eventual Happy Ending, Execution, Exhaustion, Experimentation, Extremely Dubious Consent, Facials, Fear, First Kiss, First Meetings, Flashbacks, Frottage, Fucking Machines, Galran Sign Language, Gore, Grief/Mourning, Group Hugs, Guilt, Hair-pulling, Hand to Hand Combat, Headaches & Migraines, Homesick Lance (Voltron), Hope, Hugs, Human Experimentation, Hypnotism, Identity Reveal, Imprisonment, Infiltration, Injury, Isolation, Lance (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Lotor (Voltron) Being an Asshole, Loyalty, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Magic, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Mind Meld, Minor Allura/Shiro (Voltron), Murder, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Oaths & Vows, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pain, Painful Sex, Panic Attacks, Plans, Possessive Behavior, Power Imbalance, Promises, Psychological Torture, Public Display of Affection, Punishment, Realization, Recovered Memories, Recovery, Recruitment, References to Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Relationship Discussions, Repressed Memories, Rescue Missions, Restraints, Reunions, Robot Suicide, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Self-Destruction, Sign Language, Space Battles, Starvation, Strategy & Tactics, Successful Rescue Missions, Suicide, Tasers, Torture, Training, Unethical Experimentation, Unhealthy Relationships, Voltron Lion to Paladin Psychic Bond, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, Xie/Xir Pronouns, after a fashion, because apparently that wasn't obvious, gloating, just in case, robot gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 23:11:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 47
Words: 72,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14987636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: When a mission goes wrong, the team can only watch as Lance is executed before their eyes. As they grieve and struggle to pick up the pieces, Lotor is planning something which could tear them apart for good.Art byRubeedoon tumblr. (post contains spoilers through chapter 27)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are interested in happy stories, you would be better off reading some other fic. In this fic, while I do promise a happy ending, there is a tremendously unhappy beginning, and very few happy things in the middle. This is because not very many happy things happen when the druids are involved, let alone Lotor. I'm sorry to tell you this, but that is how the story goes.
> 
> If you are interested in unhappy stories, however; if you enjoy grey morality and watching your favourite characters break and be rebuilt into someone not quite like who they once were, and those tags up above make you excited instead of upset, then read on. I promise there's no Snicket-style author commentary in the fic itself ;)

The mission had gone to shit. Lance wasn’t sure if it had happened when a stray shot turned the control panel into a shower of sparks before Pidge managed to crack it, or earlier when they’d entered the massive arena-turned-execution-chamber to find an ‘audience’ of robot sentries, or even earlier when they had to leave their Lions on the castle and come down in a shuttle small enough to slip through cracks in the security. All he knew was that the alien prince they were supposed to be saving, whose name had too many consonants in it for him to pronounce, was stuck in the execution pod while they tried to form a perimeter that would allow Pidge to hack it open.

It wasn’t working. There were too many sentries, and they couldn’t hold formation without Pidge long enough for them to actually do anything. The screens around the arena blinked slowly, inexorably, counting down the ticks until the alien prince was vaporized by the galra’s latest favourite form of public execution. Lance blasted another robot in the chest, and glanced over his shoulder at the twin pods. Maybe he could try to shoot it up? He had better control than Hunk, so if he did it the risk of accidentally shooting the prince would be pretty low. Pidge was yelling, their high voice barely audible over the din of battle. Something about getting a sentry to activate the secondary panel in the empty pod.

Lance could see it out of the corner of his eye when he spun to pick off a sentry coming for Hunk’s back. It wasn’t a keypad, just a hand scanner. The kind that opened and closed doors. The pods were conjoined, and he recalled someone remarking that it was a strange design, to have a dual pod which could only execute one prisoner at a time. Pidge wanted to reprogram a sentry to get in and take the damage. That was a good plan, a solid plan, but the timer had just gone down to two digits instead of three and it was still counting. They didn’t have time.

Somebody else had to get in the pod. Lance’s eyes flicked over the room, searching for a live galra he might be able to threaten into cooperating, and he found nothing. Of course he found nothing, there had been only sentries in the stands when they entered. It had to be one of them. Shiro was out of the question obviously, and he would never ask Hunk to give himself up, or Keith, or Pidge... he had to do it. The others were irreplaceable, it had to be him.

Lance put energy bolts through five sentries in quick succession, then turned on his heel and ran for the empty pod. He let his bayard’s weapon form dissolve, leaving only the grip, and dropped that on the sandy floor. They would still need it to form Voltron’s huge sword with Allura. He could feel Blue’s concern like a swelling tide in the back of his mind, and forced himself to ignore it. To ignore Blue, ignore Pidge cursing and Shiro yelling, ignore any and all thought about what was going to happen when the timer hit zero. The only thing he let himself think about was getting in the pod, turning around, and hitting the panel to release the prince.

The door energized, and Lance had a strange sense of déjà vu. It was like when the cryo-pod had activated on its own and trapped him inside while the castle was malfunctioning, only this time he wasn’t scared. Or, well, no, he was scared, but he was so far past panic he’d actually looped back around into a strange sort of zen. He was going to die. The execution pod was going to fill with waste quintessence, and he was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. There was a burst of energy outside, bright white arcs leaping from sentry to sentry, and just like that they were all down. Right, the species that prince belonged to could release one hell of an electrical charge under duress. Getting released into a firefight probably counted as duress.

Lance looked up at the timer. How much longer did he have? He probably should’ve made more of an effort to figure out numbers in galran script.

A hand slammed on the energy screen sealing off the front of the case and Lance jumped, eyes flicking down to see Shiro. “Lance, it’s okay.” he said, voice as level as ever. “Pidge is working on the other pod. We’ll get you out of there.”

Lance chuckled, looking back up at the countdown. Was it just his imagination, or were the numbers moving faster now? It looked more like a count of seconds than of ticks. “It’s alright.” he said, somehow managing to breathe around the pressure building in his chest. The others were safe. They had the alien they’d come to rescue, and the blue bayard for Allura. “You’ve already got a replacement lined up for me, right?” a chuckle slipped past his lips, and Shiro’s eyes widened for a second before narrowing.

“Don’t talk like that. Pidge will have you out of there in a tick.”

From the muffled swearing he could hear behind him, Lance was pretty sure that wasn’t the case. “No, it’s- it’s okay.” he said, managing a smile. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t give you guys a little warning. Now you’ll have to work out the dynamic with Allura all over again.” another giggle escaped him, and Lance bit down on any further near-hysterical laughter. If he was exchanging his life for a prince’s, he was gonna go out with dignity.

“Don’t talk like that, Lance.” Shiro said sharply, hand igniting against the force field. “Stay back, I’m getting you out myself.”

Lance looked up, and saw that the numbers had reached single digits. This was it. He was actually dying. He could feel Blue roaring at him, see the desperation in Shiro’s quickening strikes to the pod, hear Pidge cursing and Keith yelling, but inside he was just, numb. At least he was going to die a hero, just like he’d always wanted. “Tell Blue I-”

The flood of quintessence was sudden, dousing him from above, and Lance couldn’t help but scream. His flight suit was melting against him, every atom of his body being torn at by the pure liquid energy. His ears rang with screams that didn’t sound like his own, couldn’t be his own, quintessence was flooding down his throat and burning him away from the inside and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, everything was indescribable agony.

Oblivion, when it came, was a mercy.


	2. Chapter 2

Hunk staggered forwards a step when the pod lit up purple, Lance’s scream ringing through the arena. It cut off abruptly, and in his peripheral vision he saw Keith collapse with a stunned, confused expression. Hunk had a good idea what was going through his friend’s head right now, because it was also going through his own. Lance couldn’t be dead. He just, he couldn’t. He was there a second ago, laughing and pretending everything was okay. Talking about them replacing him with Allura like that was something any of them _wanted_.

The pod dimmed, and Hunk’s stomach lurched dangerously. It was empty. Lance was gone. Shiro screamed, the sound almost inhuman in its mix of grief and anger. His arm glowed brighter, and the next blow punched right through the metal. The force field flickered out, but nothing changed. Lance didn’t reappear. He was- he was gone. Lance was gone. He was gone and he wasn’t coming back.

Shiro dropped to his knees and struck the floor of the pod with both fists. His prosthetic left a deep dent in the metal as he screamed again, maybe cursing, Hunk couldn’t tell. Everything felt so distant, like he was watching someone else playing a first person game. He’d wound up right in front of the pod somehow, his feet near Shiro’s knees in the sand. What were they supposed to do now?

A hand touched his elbow, and Hunk turned his head to see the alien prince. The prince Lance had sacrificed himself to save. Why had he done that? They could live without one planet’s allegiance. Hell, he and Allura probably could’ve won them over even without saving their prince, but without Lance...

No. Hunk shook his head. Not now. He had to keep moving. Had to do something. They were supposed to be rescuing the prince, getting him back to the castle to reunite with his mother. Getting back to the castle. They should do that. Hunk crouched and grabbed Shiro by the elbow, pulling him to his feet. He might’ve said something, probably did because Shiro nodded and started leading the alien towards the door, but he wasn’t sure what.

He started towards Keith, and his foot landed on something odd. Not sand, and there weren’t any fallen sentries this close to the pods so what-? He looked down, and his stomach lurched again. It was Lance’s bayard. It looked so small, lying there pressed into the sand. Small and dirty and not at all like a weapon wielded by one of the defenders of the universe. He bent over and picked it up, distantly noting how light it was. His own was heavy, even when it was in its deactivated form. Lance’s weighed next to nothing.

Keith needed a gentle shove to get him stumbling towards the door, still looking dazed and confused. Pidge, though, clung to the still-intact pod. Wires spooled out of the interior activation panel, connecting to their left vambrace, and when Hunk mechanically moved to disconnect them Pidge screamed. He only caught a handful of words, but even the few minutes Pidge was begging for would give the galra enough time to send more troops.

Hunk pulled the last of the wires free, and threw Pidge over his shoulder. They struggled, but only briefly. As soon as the door to the arena shut behind him, Hunk set Pidge down and moved Lance’s bayard to his left hand. His right curled into a fist, and he drove it into the access panel with all his strength. It shattered, the metal denting under and around it, and the pain grounded him slightly.

The way back to the shuttle was thankfully still clear, and Hunk ushered the others into the ship. Keith’s face was streaked with tears, Shiro had adopted a thousand yard stare that clearly said he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings, and Pidge was hanging their head and sniffling. The motions to ready the ship for launch were familiar, and before he knew it he was leaving the planet’s atmosphere.

Lance was gone. That single fact rang through his head, but he just couldn’t absorb it. It didn’t make sense. The question that kept bouncing alongside it was even more confusing. Why? Why would Lance throw himself into the pod if he knew it would kill him? He was one of them, a Paladin, irreplaceable. Why would he just- the sound of an incoming transmission jarred Hunk out of his thoughts, and he tried to put on a more composed face before hitting the button to pick up.

“Hunk!” Coran beamed, and Hunk’s stomach twisted. Coran didn’t know yet. The planet’s atmosphere jammed communication between them and the castle, so they’d left their coms off. Coran, Allura, they-

“We got the prince.” he said, and he knew his voice was coming out flat but he couldn’t bring himself to sound even close to happy.

“Ah, excellent.” Coran’s smile faded some. “I suppose I’ll hear the rest at debrief.”

Hunk nodded mechanically, and ended the call. The rest of the flight seemed to take no time at all, and when they touched down in the shuttle bay his stomach churned mutinously. Lance was gone, Lance was _dead_ , and he was going to have to tell Coran and Allura the news.

“Everyone out.” Shiro said, and Hunk startled slightly in his seat. He hadn’t even noticed, but apparently Shiro had pulled himself together a bit during the flight. “Hunk, give me L- give me his bayard.” he stumbled over Lance’s name, and Hunk nodded as he unclipped the dirty white and blue weapon from his hip pouch.

Shiro took it without a word, and Hunk followed him out of the shuttle. Allura met them at the hangar door, and Hunk’s heart sank as she started on a cheery congratulations. They’d saved the prince, ensured the alliance, proven themselves exemplary Paladins once again... she trailed off after that, eyes flicking over their group as her face fell into a small frown. She looked over them carefully again, then her gaze settled on Shiro.

“Where is Lance?” she asked, her tone sharp and familiar. How many times had Hunk heard her reprimand them in that voice? How many times had she scolded Lance in that tone? Shiro’s head was bowed, his shoulders as tense as steel cables, and Hunk looked down at the hem of Allura’s dress as her eyes swung over to him. “Paladins, what-”

“He saved the Prince.” Shiro said, cutting off Allura’s more hesitant question. He held out Lance’s bayard with both hands, and Hunk was struck again by the thought that it looked so small, so fragile without Lance’s fingers curled around the grip. “I couldn’t-”

Allura gasped, and Hunk glanced up to see tears welling at the corners of her eyes. “Paladins, you are- you are dismissed.” her voice shook, but the order was still clear. Hunk nodded, and gave the alien prince a nudge forward before heading into the hallway himself. The last thing he heard before the door slid shut behind him was Shiro’s voice, pitched low and comforting, and a quiet sob.

Only once he was back in his room, armour and flight suit tucked in the closet for cleaning and repair, did the thick glass separating him from his emotions shatter. He fell down on his bed, buried his face in his pillow, and screamed.


	3. Chapter 3

Pain. He was in pain. Not as bad as when he’d died, but still pretty bad.

Wait, **died**?

Lance’s eyes flew open, and he gasped for air. He was alive. His entire body hurt, burns and bruises covering nearly every inch of his skin, but he was alive to feel that pain. He was alive. How was he alive? Lance shuffled his knees forward, taking note of the shackles around his ankles, and then heaved himself more or less upright. The head rush and protesting of his body said he’d been like that for a good few hours at the very least, but he blinked away the bright blackness creeping into the edges of his vision and looked around. Purple, purple, and more purple.

Bare walls, bare floor, a door which was certainly as sturdy as the cuffs binding him hand and foot. He was in a cell. A galran cell. That execution pod wasn’t a one-man death chamber after all; it was a teleporter. That was, actually pretty damn clever. A rebel leader jailed could be broken out by their followers, but a rebel leader executed was one less person to press for information. A rebel leader thought dead but secretly transported to an interrogation facility, well, that didn’t seem to have a downside for the Empire. Unless operating it was expensive...

Lance shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. Injured, chained, locked in an Imperial prison cell somewhere. How was he going to get out of this one? Shiro had been in a similar situation before, and he... fuck, he hadn’t gotten out on his own. Ulaz had let Shiro go, but Ulaz was dead and the rest of the Marmorites had been lying low ever since Zarkon’s defeat. Allura had been a prisoner on Zarkon’s ship that one time, though, and she- had to be busted out. _Shit_. If the rest of the team thought he was dead, he couldn’t count on them coming to his rescue. He was alone.

Well, first things first he needed to get his hands in front of his body. His shoulders were in agony. It took a bit of effort, but after some squirming and cursing and one surprisingly forceful knee to his own jaw he was able to slump his shoulders forwards and release the tension in them. His neck still hurt, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He curled his hands into fists, watching as the singed fabric of his flight suit stretched and then tore across three of his knuckles. Good to see that it hadn’t actually melted into his skin. Four more fingers on the gloves of his suit were already split or torn, and the remaining ones were in various stages of complete tatters. Not space-worthy in the slightest, but he didn’t have his helmet so he wouldn’t be space-worthy even if his flight suit was still in one piece. Now that he had use of his hands, it was time to come up with a plan...

\---

The door opened before Lance could come up with anything, and he rocked to his feet as the robots stared in at him. It was unnerving, somehow more so than looking at a deactivated training dummy. “Come.” one of the robots extended a hand, and Lance stepped closer to it. He didn’t have any other options, really. Maybe he could make a break for it in the hallway? Finding an exterior wall shouldn’t be too hard, and then he could follow that to some escape pods and use one of those to, well, escape. Shiro had managed it, after all, so those things must pack some serious punch. Lance walked over to the doorway, and made note of where the robot’s guns were holstered.

One metal hand wrapped around his cuffs, and he stumbled slightly as the robot started moving. The other one trailed behind, and Lance did his best to remember the twists and turns of the passageways they went through. It seemed like they’d been walking for ages when they passed through a set of doors which were more impressive than even the ones in Beta Traz had been, and Lance staggered forwards as the robot which had halfway dragged him through the hallways yanked on his cuffs only to release them a second later.

A shove between his shoulder blades sent him to his knees, and he grunted as he hit the floor. The impact made injuries all over flare up in protest, and he was sucking a breath in through his teeth when boots entered his field of vision. They were dark, more blue than purple or grey, and pointed at the toe. Lance lifted his head, scanning up long, _long_ legs and over a lean torso to a smooth purple face. The galra, because what else could it be with purple skin and golden sclera around its purple-blue irises, smirked and leaned down, long white hair spilling over its shoulders. Between the hair, skin, and just-barely-inhuman facial features, all this alien needed to complete the space Legolas look was some braids and a longbow.

The galra smirked, leaning slightly from side to side as if trying to view Lance from different angles without moving its feet. The silence stretched on, quickly becoming unbearable, and what the hell he was already as good as dead. “Who the fuck are you supposed to be?” Lance asked, narrowing his eyes at the alien in front of him.

“Who am I?” the Legolas-looking motherfucker grinned, showing off deadly sharp teeth. “Do you truly not know, little Paladin?”

“Uh, nope.” Lance shook his head, aiming for a cocky and careless tone despite the way his heart was hammering in his chest. “Lemme guess, new general? Admiral? Captain of some dinky little ship that Voltron could cut in two with just the basic sword?” he managed to make his shoulders relax, but the galra in front of him was still smirking. Something about that smirk sent chills down his spine, but he managed to keep his face somewhere between neutral and mildly bored.

“My name is Emperor Lotor.” the Legolas-galra said, mouth still curled in that fucking smirk as he moved a hand to grip Lance’s chin, deadly sharp nails pricking against his skin. Lance tried to pull back, but Lotor’s grip was iron and he felt his expression change to one of fear as his heart dropped into his stomach.

“Good little Paladin.” Lotor crooned, his violet eyes boring into Lance’s blue and making him feel dizzy, lightheaded, like the whole world was spinning save the floor he was kneeling on. Lotor was perfectly in range for punching, but his arms felt like lead weights hanging from his shoulders, his entire body heavy and slightly disconnected from him. “Now, bow to your Emperor.”

Bow? Lance felt himself tipping forwards, and squeezed his eyes shut. Why was he bowing? Lotor didn’t deserve his respect in any form. With his eyes shut his body felt like his own again, and Lance’s eyebrows lifted briefly as he realized what was going on. Lotor had hypno-vision. Okay, that was easy enough to work around. Lance kept his eyes shut and curled his hands into fists, then flung himself into motion. He launched himself up with all the force he could muster, letting out a war cry that put Fernanda’s to shame, and when his forehead struck Lotor’s face he brought his fists up blindly to catch him on the jaw. The claws on his cheek and jaw left stinging scratches as their owner recoiled, and Lance opened his eyes to properly smirk at the so-called Emperor of the Universe.

Lotor had staggered back a few steps, and was now touching his face with a look of shock. Dark purple liquid leaked from one nostril, under a bridge which now looked a little less straight than before. Had he broken the bastard’s nose? Fuckin _sweet_. He was totally bragging about that when he got out of here. Breaking the Emperor’s pompous nose while he was tied up and supposedly helpless was definitely a story he could tell over and over.

Lotor straightened up and wiped the blood from his nose away on his hand, a cruel slash of a grin appearing on his face. “I am going to enjoy watching you break.”


	4. Chapter 4

She’d never noticed before, how quiet her home had become. Before the war, before everything went wrong, the castle had never been silent. There were always guards patrolling, caretakers cleaning, mechanics making sure every system was running at peak efficiency. Hundreds of people had lived and worked here, and even the guest rooms had rarely been empty, always hosting some diplomat or other. She’d grown up in this castle, surrounded by the constant bustle of people, and now there was silence. No more guards, no more caretakers, no more trained mechanics, no more diplomats. Just her, and Coran, and five aliens.

No, four. Four aliens.

It had been ten thousand years since the Paladins suffered such a catastrophic loss, but she still remembered the funeral so clearly. She had never been particularly close to Honerva, but Zarkon had loved her more than anything. More than his own life, she remembered thinking during the ceremony. It had seemed romantic at the time, if sad, but now that it was one of her own who had placed love of his friends over his own life she could see nothing romantic or noble about it. Not for the first time, she wished her father’s memory core hadn’t been corrupted. He would know better than her how Paladins dealt with the loss of one of their own. How she could help them recover.

The castle had been quiet since she woke from the cryo-pod, but only now did she realize how cavernous the silence was. 

She wished they had the time to mourn properly, but wars did not stop for the death of a single soldier, no matter how beloved. Still, she allowed them a quintant off. Twenty vargas was far too short a time to honour the passing of a Paladin, of a friend, but it was all they could afford. His bayard rested on the table where it had lain for ten thousand years, the dust and grime of Lance’s last battle wicked away by the castle’s cleaning systems. 

She’d never noticed before, how large the bridge felt when it was empty.

She spent the day of rest with her remaining Paladins. At first Shiro tried to push them to train, to work through their grief with physical exertion. That ended when Pidge stormed off, throwing their helmet on the ground hard enough that it bounced away. Keith stayed, though, even after the others had gone. He was off balance, his technique sloppy as he threw himself at the training dummy again and again until his limbs would no longer move. Allura left before he could see her lingering by the door.

The silence was barely broken by her footsteps, and if there was any other sound in the training room, well, she would never tell a soul.

Hunk she found in the kitchen, Pidge perched on the island with a computer balanced on their knees. Their fingers flew across the keyboard, eyes laser focused behind their glasses as they rushed through some code or other. The purple symbols scrolling down the screen, illegible from Allura’s angle, flashed red and Pidge let out a sharp sound of frustration. Hunk set down the bowl he’d been mixing something in, wiped his face on his sleeve, and crossed over to pull Pidge into a hug. It hurt to just look at them, to not step in and give what comfort she could, but even hovering in the doorway she felt like she was intruding.

Only the sounds of the air recyclers and the occasional buzz of a dying light followed her as she wandered the castle, her feet carrying her through halls which should’ve been familiar but felt utterly alien without people to fill them. She could have easily found the others on the security feeds, but to do that she would’ve had to return to the bridge. The empty, silent bridge. She shivered, and kept walking. She knew every inch of this ship, it was only a matter of time until she found her final Paladin.

The garden was never silent, but when she opened the door she was greeted by more than the gentle hum of climatory regulators and soft chimes of angelbells bobbing in the eternal breeze. A low, indistinct murmur of speech drifted out on the warm air, and Allura stepped through the doorway. She hadn’t been in this room since she woke from the cryo-pod, had barely thought about it, but it wasn’t half as overgrown as she thought it should’ve been after ten thousand years.

The sound of someone talking drew her attention away from the plants, though, and towards the large window which took up most of one wall. It showed nothing but empty space and distant stars, with two distinct near-silhouettes cut out of the beautiful vista. Shiro was slumped forward, his head likely in his hands, and she couldn’t make out his words but the pain in his voice was unmistakable. Coran was seated next to him on the low bench, a hand resting on her Paladin’s back. When he spoke, his tone was the same one he’d used to calm her countless times as a child. She retreated out of the garden, and her feet took her to the door of her room.

The mice came scurrying over from her dresser as soon as she sat down, and she lowered a hand so they could climb up onto her shoulder. Their minds were quite clever for their small size, but still so very simple compared to an altean’s, or even a human’s. They didn’t understand grief, only that Lance was gone and all of the two-leggers were sad and angry. In their small minds, the two were not related, because death was not something they knew to mourn. Platt snuggled up against her neck, pushing his head against the back of her ear, and she lifted a hand to scratch the back of his head with one finger while the rest scurried to her other shoulder.

Even her own room felt too large and quiet, empty without the sound of people just outside her door. Without the distant racket of her Paladins chasing each other through the corridors, or bickering over something inconsequential, or making things explode for no reason she would ever understand. The whole ship felt like a graveyard, like losing Lance had stolen the life from the rest of them as well. Her entire body felt heavy and cold, the same sensation she’d felt when she realized Altea was ten thousand years gone.

She shook her head, and pushed down the sob rising in her throat. She didn’t have the luxury of grief, right now. She needed to be strong, to be someone her Paladins could look to. Once the war was won, then she would have time to grieve. Until then, she would be starstone. Beautiful, unbreakable, and cold as the depths of space. The Empire would rue the day they took one of her Paladins from her.


	5. Chapter 5

He wasn’t sure how long it had been, since he sacrificed himself. The lights never changed, meals were delivered sporadically at best, and if there was a pattern to the druids pulling him out for questioning then it was too complex for him to keep track of. He’d tested the robot sentries’ strength a few times, and they were either a much sturdier model or he was just too weak to put up a fight without his bayard. Still, he wasn’t going to give them what they wanted. He wasn’t going to be rescued, on account of being assumed dead, but he’d sooner die than give Lotor the satisfaction of seeing him broken.

The bastard showed up every once in a while, when the druids were probing in his head for information. He never looked even the slightest bit uncomfortable, watching Lance struggle and bite back screams. In fact, Lance would even go so far as to say it looked like space-Legolas _enjoyed_ watching him suffer. In a way, those sessions were sorta easiest. He could just glare at Lotor and focus on spiting him, and no matter how bad his head hurt the druids wouldn’t get anything useful. 

When Lotor wasn’t there, though, it was a lot harder to keep his focus. His shit brain would jump on one of the questions the druids asked, and while he always managed to redirect his train of thought before he revealed anything of any use they knew plenty of random things about his friends and family now. Hunk snoring in their shared dorm room at the Garrison, Amalia laughing after he dumped a whole box of trick jellybeans in his mouth on a dare, Viv’s delighted screeches when Fernanda dropped a whole tube of mentos in a two-litre of store brand pepsi and it exploded all over the back yard. Pointless things, little details about his life before Voltron, nothing that would be strategically valuable.

“Oh look, Leggles decided to join us today.” he grinned as the sentries marched him into the room. Lotor was talking with the lead druid, Haggar, and turned at his address. But instead of scowling, like he usually did at Lance’s nickname, his face split with a sharp grin that sent chills down Lance’s spine.

“One last chance, Human.” he spat the last word like an insult. “Cooperate, or the druids will make you wish you were never born.”

“Mm, lemme think about it.” Lance tilted his head and pursed his lips, then shook his head. “Nah.”

“Are all humans this stubborn?” he scowled.

“Pretty much.” Lance pulled up a cocky grin. “I’ve been told I’m exceptionally persistent, though.”

“We’ll see about that.” Lotor smirked, stalking closer as Lance was shoved into the now familiar chair and his cuffs affixed to it. His literally hypnotic golden eyes were harmless at a distance, but when he leaned into Lance’s space and gripped his chin Lance felt the presence of a will not his own trying to force him to speak. 

“Go suck a quiznack.” he hissed, pushing back against Lotor’s stupid hypnotism. Shiro had lasted an entire goddamn year in galra hands, he could hold out until they slipped up and gave him an opening to either escape or die trying.

“He’s yours, Haggar.” Lotor sneered, straightening up and giving Lance one last glare before turning towards the door. “But keep my words in mind.”

“Of course, Emperor.” Haggar said, and Lance gritted his teeth against the prickling, burning sensation of druid magic drilling into his head. He just had to hold out until he found an escape route. He could do that.

\---

Lance screamed as dark lightning crackled through his body, the golden-eyed shade of his mamá smiling serenely as his exhausted muscles spasmed uncontrollably. “Por favor” he gasped when the energy stopped flowing, his eyes watering with pain. “Mamá, por favor, _duele_. ”

“Any progress?” a voice asked as Mamá stroked his face, more dark energy flowing from her palm and across his body. Lance squeezed his eyes shut as he screamed, trying to thrash away from the burning sensation.

“Yes.” another voice answered, and there were more words exchanged but Lance couldn’t make them out over his own hoarse screams.

“Do you want it to stop?” the first voice asked, and Lance nodded. “Then I need you to look at me.”

Lance opened his eyes, and sucked in a breath at the sight of a white-haired galra leaning over him. Lotor. This was Lotor, son of Zarkon, Emperor of half the fucking universe. “Leggles.” Lance rasped, and Lotor’s grin fell. Yup, still had it.

“He’s not ready yet.”

Ready for what? Lance frowned, but there was a distracting pain building in his right shoulder and when he looked Isidora was standing there with a syringe. No, not Isidora, a shade of her. The golden eyes looked wrong on her expertly contoured face.

“He will be.” the second voice replied, and Mamá walked back into view with a sweet smile and a ball of dark energy in hand.

“No, no, Mamá _por favor_. ” he begged, but she simply pinched his cheek with one hand and tutted like she always did when he came home for break. She pressed the ball of dark energy against his stomach, and Lance choked on a sob as it phased through his jumpsuit and the skin beneath it. Then it sank into him, settling low in his gut like a ball of molten lead, and Lance screamed.

\---

He lost count of how many times Lotor came to visit, after that. Every time, the Emperor asked Lance to look at him, and every time he declared him not yet ready. The physical tests grew harder, the interrogations more painful, until he had to be dragged back to his cell after each session because his legs simply wouldn’t support him. There was usually food delivered at some point while he was in the cell, but whether he was able to keep it down or not was a crapshoot. On bad days, it came right back up before he’d even finished what was on the tray. If he managed not to puke it all out while the shades of his family ran him through grueling tests or pushed the limits of his sanity with magic, then it was a good day.

Good days were rare.

When the food stopped coming, he was almost relieved. There was no way out for him, and without food he wouldn’t last much longer. A healthy person could survive three weeks without food, he remembered that much from survival training at the Garrison, but between his recent track record with meals and the amount of energy he was exerting daily, he doubted he’d make it through one. It wasn’t heroic, but if he was going to be a guinea pig the rest of his life then the shorter that was the better.

Except of course he wouldn’t be allowed to die that easily. The sips of water he got during physical testing were replaced with shot-sized portions of some thick, bitter liquid which kept him from fainting but did nothing for his growling stomach. He tried to refuse it, but Salome just forced his mouth open with xir fingers and dumped it far enough back that he could either swallow or choke. He stopped resisting the vile brew after that.

“What would you give, to make it stop?”

Lance lifted his head, and met Lotor’s hypnotic golden eyes. How long had it been, now? He had no idea. Everything since that pod closed around him was a haze of pain and hunger and exhaustion. Absurdly, the thought of his mami’s lemonade popped into his head. He would kill a man right now for a glass of lemonade, even just the shitty kind you could get at a store. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a rough, dry rasp.

“He’s ready.” Lotor grinned. “Begin the preparations.”


	6. Chapter 6

Shiro grunted as the training dummy caught him in the shoulder, lunging forward and punching it hard enough to dent the casing of its head. He ached all over, inside and out. During the day Keith rarely left this room, save for battles and the occasional meal, and it showed in the patchwork of bruises that covered his skin. At night, though, this place was his. Pidge sat in sometimes, typing furiously on their computer and occasionally shouting in frustration when they couldn’t decrypt a piece of galra code fast enough. They weren’t here tonight, though, which meant he could go all out.

“Next level.” he barked, swaying slightly as he tapped the control unit strapped to his wrist, dismissing the little screen warning him he’d exceeded his recommended training level by an unsafe amount. He had to be faster, stronger. They all did. Hunk had been the one to suggest training as a way to work through their grief, apparently because it was what his father did after a relative died. True, he probably hadn’t meant like this, but it helped. The training dummy swung, its motions almost too fast to tack, and Shiro took the blow with his prosthetic.

It struck again and again, forcing him to keep on the defensive. He felt a rib crack, but kept his feet. He couldn’t afford to fall. He was the leader, it was his job to get his team home safely. He’d failed twice, now. He wouldn’t fail a third time. If it took his life, he would keep them safe. All of them. All of them that were left.

Lance’s face flashed through his head, his painfully fake smile as he apologized for inconveniencing them with his death as if that was what they would be concerned about with one of their own in mortal peril. The training dummy caught him under the ribs, and Shiro staggered. The next blow struck the side of his face, and he went sprawling. His arm burned where flesh met metal, and he grabbed the dummy by one leg to bring it to the ground. Rolling on top of the robot, he slammed his prosthetic fist into its face. For Sam, for Matt, for Lance. For the friends he couldn’t protect, and the ones who were still counting on him. The floor opened up as he punched it again, and he fell with the deactivated dummy into pitch blackness.

The impact jarred his knees, as well as a host of bruises and damaged bones, and when he was spat back out that landing knocked the wind out of him. “Next level.” he said, and the screen on his wrist beeped angrily. He put it on mute, confirmed the level up, and staggered to his feet. The galra didn’t fight fair. He couldn’t count on enemies being within a safe range of combat skill relative to his own.

The training dummy caught him right on the ribs with its first brutal strike, and as he staggered sideways struggling to breathe it smashed him on the opposite side of his face. He felt skin split, and blood ran into his eye as he went down. The training dummy didn’t hesitate to kick him, and Shiro gritted his teeth around a scream as he felt his ribs breaking. Pain sparked across his vision as bright black dots, and the robot slammed the tip of its blunt practice blade into his gut. What little breath he’d managed to draw in was forced right back out, and Shiro squeezed his eyes shut as the training dummy stomped on his knee.

The program would stop after thirty seconds of inactivity, but Shiro couldn’t just lie back and let it beat him. He had to be able to get up even when he was beaten, broken. If he didn’t get up he couldn’t protect them. He grabbed the robot’s sword arm, and felt blood in his throat as he pulled himself up. The dummy tossed its weapon to its unrestrained hand, and Shiro screamed as the blunt, heavy blade struck his shoulder joint. A kick to the shoulder sent him tumbling back to the floor, and every time he managed to prop himself up on his prosthetic arm it just kicked him back down.

Abruptly, the training dummy’s lights went dim. It took two steps back, and Shiro watched as it dropped through the floor. But he hadn’t been non-responsive for thirty seconds, and that was the only way the program would turn off. His breaths sounded loud in his ears, rough from exertion and screaming and wet from blood. One of those blows to his chest must’ve broken a rib that punctured his lung.

“Shiro, are you alright?” Allura asked, falling to her knees next to him. That wasn’t right, she was a Princess. He was supposed to kneel to her, not the other way ‘round.

“Just need some pod time, Princess.” he managed a weak grin, keeping his lips closed. He couldn’t be sure there was no blood on his teeth.

“What happened here?” she asked, kneeling over him and gripping his flesh arm. He tried to pull it free, and hissed as pain ripped through the entire left side of his torso. Great, as if broken ribs weren’t enough he had a dislocated shoulder. “Shiro, tell me.” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“Training.” he said honestly. She pulled on his arm, and he arched off the ground as his body tensed. _Fuck_ that hurt.

“The truth, Shiro.” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“High level training.” he elaborated, and coughed into his prosthetic fist.

“Without your armour?” Allura frowned, placing a hand on his chest before abruptly yanking on his arm. The pain intensified for a second, then dulled drastically. “Can you walk?”

“Hopefully.” Shiro grinned, then winced as a chuckle tried to slip out.

“You know what, I’ll carry you.” she said, and a second later he was in her arms bridal style. Or, well, princess style. He was sure there was a joke in there somewhere, but everything hurt too much for him to figure it out.

The trip up to Medical passed in a blur, and when Allura set him down on the patient chair Shiro lifted his hands to undo his vest. Judging from the pain in his chest and hazy memories of his time as a gladiator, he had maybe five more minutes before he passed out from oxygen deprivation if his ribs weren’t set. And then another ten minutes before he was too far gone for a cryo-pod to bring back. Maybe less, actually. The galra pods were almost definitely more advanced, after ten thousand years.

“What can I do?” Allura asked as he dropped his vest next to the chair and unzipped the jumpsuit beneath down to the waist.

“My ribs.” he said, tying the sleeves around his waist. “They need to be set, or I won’t be able to breathe right.”

“How do I do that?” Allura asked, and Shiro realized the strange note in her voice was fear. Even in the face of unimaginable odds, she was so brave. He couldn’t actually remember hearing her sound afraid before. To hear it now, when she didn’t even know how bad his internal injuries were, was a little bit jarring.

“Just, put your hands on either side of the bone, and kinda-” he dug his fingers into his chest and curled them, pulling one of his ribs more or less back into position. He was pretty sure he was bleeding internally now, but a varga or two in the pods would fix that right up.

“Alright.” Allura nodded. “This will hurt.”

“It already hurts, Princess.” he said matter-of-fact-ly.

“Deep breath.” she muttered, and Shiro wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or to herself but he inhaled anyways. She worked quickly, and soon the blinding pain in his chest had faded to a more normal level of ‘just got my ass kicked’ pain. Shiro breathed deeply, winced as his ribs protested, and exhaled again.

“Feels alright.” he said, and she helped him to his feet. The pod closing around him was familiar now, after almost a week of putting himself in one to heal from his late night training before the others could see. He shut his eyes, and slipped easily into the cool darkness of cryo-sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

It took two vargas and seven dobashes for the pod holding Shiro to open. Allura knew, because she’d spent that time pacing in front of it practicing the scolding she would give him when he came out healed. One Paladin lost was one Paladin too many. Without Voltron, the recent battles had been harder and harder to win. Without Lance, her team was starting to come apart at the seams. To lose Shiro, their leader... she glanced at him again, fingers curling in the fabric of his vest.

He hadn’t bothered to zip his undersuit back up after she set his ribs, and every time her eyes landed on him she found herself stopping to stare. She was looking when the pod opened, and stepped close to catch him when he fell out. For all his impressive musculature, he felt quite light in her arms. His eyes came open, and once she was certain he wasn’t about to fall over Allura pressed his vest into his hand.

“You left this in Medical.” she said, and he nodded as he pulled the top half of his undersuit back on. It didn’t have an airtight zip up the front like the flight suits did, but instead a sturdy one which laid over the spine. Now that she thought about it, she had seen the same thing on the prisoners Shiro and Pidge rescued from Sendak’s battleship all those movements ago. Was Shiro still wearing his prisoner clothing? The thought made her stomach churn uneasily as she turned away to give him some privacy.

“Thank you, Princess.” he said after the sounds of shifting fabric ceased.

“It was nothing.” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Your training habits, however...”

“It won’t happen again, Princess.” he said quickly, his posture straight and shoulders squared.

“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.” Allura said sternly. “Why would you train against the gladiator at that level? Even I cannot defeat one of that difficulty on my own, and I have been training with these systems for my entire life.”

“I need to be stronger.” Shiro said, not quite meeting her eyes.

“Then you train like a sane altean being!” Allura cried, throwing her hands up. “The castle computers may be old, but they are well programmed. If they say an enemy is beyond your ability, then it is beyond your ability!”

“And I can’t afford that.” Shiro said, a sharpness in his tone which hadn’t been there before. Was he truly so dense? Humans were prideful, that much she had learnt in her time living with them, but she had always thought Shiro above such a thing.

“I can’t afford you to be a fool-”

“I can’t afford to lose.” Shiro spoke over her, hands curling into fists at his sides.

“And I can’t afford to lose you!” she snapped back, stepping forward and growing until she could stand nose to nose with him. For a long second they glared at each other, then Shiro’s face softened and he ducked his head.

“I’m sorry, Princess. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“Please.” Allura sighed, looking down as well and taking his hands in her own. She had promised herself that she would be starstone, but to be forever cold and distant was more exhausting than holding a complex shift for days on end. “Without Lance, you are all that holds Voltron together. It is hard enough to replace any Paladin, but you...” she exhaled, short and sharp, and drew a deep breath. “They are your team. The Black Paladin must be someone whose men follow without hesitation, and if they will not even follow me so readily I can only imagine how poorly they would react to another.”

“Without Lance, there is no Voltron.” Shiro replied, his voice soft. “Not unless Blue changes her mind and accepts you again.” The silence of the room swallowed up the sound before it could echo, and he stepped back towards the edge of the slight depression which housed these cryo-pods. “I-” Shiro sighed, and Allura sank down onto the step next to him without releasing his hands. “I couldn’t protect him. I’m the one who-”

“I sent you down there.” Allura blurted, giving Shiro’s hands a squeeze so he would look at her. “The Queen and I knew the dangers. She would not have objected if I told her it was too great a risk.”

“But I’m the one who was down there.” Shiro said, looking back at his knees. “I’m their leader, their lives are my responsibility. I swore to protect them, and-” his breath shuddered, like Hunk’s did so often now, and he pulled one hand free of hers to wipe at his eyes. “And now we don’t even have anything to bring back to his family.”

“You have his things.” she said softly. “His clothes, his personal communicator, the trinkets he collected.” silence yawned around them, the dimly lit room turning cavernous, and she squeezed the hand she still held. “His family will be proud, knowing that-” she had to take a deep breath, which was made difficult by the lump in her throat. “Knowing that their son was a hero.” she exhaled, and it came out shaky. But no, she was meant to be starstone, to be a pillar of strength for her Paladins to rely on.

“Are you alright?” Shiro asked, turning towards her. His hand not enveloped in hers came to rest on her elbow, and Allura blinked hard. Since Lance’s death, Hunk and Coran had been almost smothering in caring for the rest of them. She’d stood strong as starstone as they tried to fill the gaping, Lance-shaped hole in their lives. So why, then, did such a simple gesture threaten to bring her to tears?

“Of course.” she said, but his hands didn’t move.

“Allura.” his voice had gone soft, sympathetic. “You can’t keep everything bottled up. It’s not healthy.”

“And letting the gladiator beat you into the floor is?” she asked rhetorically. He at least had the decency to look guilty about it. “When was the last time you slept instead of training, Shiro? How long has it been since you saw Keith without bruises, Hunk without tear stains?” she lifted her free hand and caught the one resting on her elbow, squeezing both his organic and prosthetic hands tightly. “One of us has to be strong for the others to lean on.”

“Both of us do, Princess.” Shiro said, looking down at their joined hands. 

“Agreed.” Allura nodded her head once.

“But, you don’t have to be strong for me, so how about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?” she frowned. She had seen her Paladins strike odd bargains with each other, trading things and favours around for reasons she could not discern, but Shiro only rarely partook in those exchanges.

“I’ll follow the computer recommendations, and you can tell me to go to bed when you think I need it.” well, that was a good start. “And in return, you won’t try so hard to be strong when it’s just the two of us.”

Oh. Allura looked away from his face and released her transformation, shrinking to her usual size. If she let herself feel, let herself properly grieve the loss of their Blue Paladin, she wasn’t sure she would be able to put her mask back on afterwards. But if it would get Shiro to sleep again, to stop using the gladiator to destroy himself every night... Allura looked up, and met his eyes. “Deal. Now, it’s time for you to get some sleep.”

Shiro blinked, a look of shock flickering across his face for a second before he started laughing. The sound filled the empty space of the room, making it feel not quite so huge in the darkness. “It’s almost time for me to be awake anyways, Princess.” he grinned, the most genuine smile she’d seen from any of her Paladins since Lance’s death, and she found herself smiling back.

“Then go lie down.” she stood, pulling him up after her by their still-joined hands. “If the others question it, I will tell them we were discussing where to strike next and sent you to take a nap.”

“Take a nap.” he shook his head, still smiling slightly. “Makes me sound like a kindergartener.”

“Go.” she smiled, giving his shoulder a gentle shove. “Rest. You fi-” no, not five, not anymore. “Four are attacking a transport hub today.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.” Shiro nodded, and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Shiro?” she called out as she started after him. She still had to get to the bridge and plan today’s attack, after all.

“Yes, Princess?” he asked, slowing so she could easily catch up to him.

“Just Allura is fine.” she smiled, and he looked away with an expression she couldn’t read at this angle. “When we’re alone, I mean.” she clarified. If they were going to act as each other’s equals, he didn’t need to address her by rank.

“Of course... Allura.” Shiro smiled again as they left the room. If this agreement between them was what it took to make her Paladins laugh again, smile again, then she would learn how to shed her mask of starstone and still be able to put it back on.


	8. Chapter 8

Lance woke with a start, and scrambled backwards as the sight of something interrupting his view of blank purple cell wall. His back hit a corner, and he winced before a few things registered in quick succession. First, his body didn’t hurt. His head ached, but the rest of him was pain free. Second, his cuffs were gone. His wrists and ankles felt weirdly light without them, and being able to pull his hands apart voluntarily distracted him for a second from the third thing. He wasn’t in his cell.

The walls were a more blueish shade of purple, and they weren’t bare, and he wasn’t lying on the floor. He was on a bed. It was the softest thing he’d felt in, god, _forever_ , and part of him wanted to flop back down on it and just melt into the rumpled sheets but a bigger part of him wanted to examine the rest of the room. He stood, and shivered as he realized his prisoner jumpsuit was gone. The flat sheet made a sufficient toga, though, and after making himself at least moderately decent he looked around at his new surroundings.

A small blinking light in one upper corner indicated video surveillance, and he flipped it off before moving to look at the other furniture in the room. With the bed at his back there was a four-drawer dresser set into the wall on his left, and a desk with a matching chair pushed up against the right a few paces further away. A doorway was just left of center on the far wall, with the camera above it to the left, and a full length mirror mounted almost directly opposite the desk. He walked over to touch the operation panel, and pressed his palm to the handprint which glowed there. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened. This was a galra ship after all, everything was coded to respond to their tech and DNA.

The desk drawers turned up nothing of interest, so he went back towards the bed and pulled open the top drawer of the dresser. Black briefs, with a single word repeated around the waistband in alien lettering. He fished out a pair, then turned his back to the camera and pulled them on. The next drawer had a lot of purple fabric things, and after a moment of confusion he tossed one on the bed and did up the zipper to make it stop flopping around. Once in one piece, it became obvious that he was looking at a flight suit. He tossed that back in the drawer, hip-checked it shut, and bent to open the third one.

Dark foam greeted him, flat and featureless save a notch against the front of the drawer maybe three inches wide. He stuck his hand in the slot cautiously, and when it didn’t burn on contact he lifted it up. It wasn’t very thick, maybe an inch and a half, but he could see more foam underneath and a hint of something shiny. This was just a protective lid over something else. He pulled out the slab of foam and tossed it away, and his stomach lurched.

The drawer held armour, dully shining pieces of dark grey with blue and orange accents which looked like they would fit perfectly over his arms and legs. The combination of colours was familiar, and he pressed a hand to his mouth as he recoiled. That couldn’t be his, couldn’t be meant for him. He was- he was a Paladin of Voltron, a prisoner of war. This had to be some kind of trap.

He kicked that drawer shut and yanked open the fourth, discarding the foam cover hastily. Two halves of a cuirass stared up at him, with a helmet and belt nestled between them. The helmet was plain and rounded, the same dark grey as the armour save a spot of blue on the chin, and the breastplate had a familiar insignia prominently embossed over the breastbone in the same shade. The same insignia which decorated the armour Lotor’s Generals wore. This was the uniform of the enemy. He stumbled backwards to the bed, and stared at the still-open drawer in horror. Was this what Lotor had thought he was ready for? To take up arms and serve the very aliens he’d been fighting since the moment he left Earth?

“I see you’re awake.”

Lance’s head snapped towards the door, and he tensed at the sight of Lotor standing there. He pulled the sheet tighter around himself, acutely aware of how naked he was underneath his thin shield, but Lotor simply chuckled and stepped into the room. A floating tray followed behind him, and Lance’s stomach growled as the smell of food filled the room.

“And hungry. Good.” Lotor smiled, showing too many sharp teeth for Lance to feel completely comfortable having it levelled at him. “Eat.” he said, sending the tray towards the bed with a flick of his wrist and sitting in the desk chair.

Lance stared warily at the tray cover for a minute, then slowly lifted it from the tray. The smell of food intensified, and he only barely held back a groan as his jaw began to ache. It looked strange, green noodly things in a blue sauce, but it smelled delicious. There was a sharp pain in his jaw when he put the first forkful in his mouth, but he ignored that in favour of taking another bite. God, it felt like ages since he’d had real food.

The meal was quickly gone, and he was halfway through the accompanying glass of water before he realized that Lotor was still in the room. The pointy-eared galra wasn’t saying anything, just watching him a frankly unsettling expression. “Um, thanks.” he said after a moment, breaking the silence.

“Did you enjoy it?”

Lance nodded. He was naked and unarmed, and for the moment not bound hand and foot but Lotor was easily a head taller than him and looked like he had a good fifty pounds more in the muscle department.

“Good.” Lotor stood, leaving the chair at an angle to the desk. “Starting today, my Generals will be training you to join their ranks. A sentry will be here to escort you in ten doboshes.”

Join Lotor’s Generals? Lance felt his eyes widen. This was the chance he’d been waiting for. He could wait until Lotor put a gun in his hand, then blow the bastard’s brains out and make a run for the nearest escape pod.

“Of course, Haggar didn’t let me take you from her without conditions.” Lotor said airily. “Should Narti detect any sign of treasonous thoughts, I’ll have to give you up. After all, I did just take her new favourite pet project away.” he flashed that sharp grin again, and Lance shivered. Okay, no plotting Lotor’s death. Not until he knew how this Narti was going to be reading his mind, and how he could work around it.

“Of course.” Lance said, and gave a shallow nod.

“Now, I presume you know how to dress yourself?” Lotor turned towards the door, and a flick of his wrist had the floating tray scooting after him. “It wouldn’t do to show up to your first day of training in underthings and a sheet, now would it?”

The door shut behind Lotor, and Lance slowly got to his feet. The breastplate and helmet still stared up at him from the bottom drawer, and he pushed it shut with his foot before opening the second one. The bodysuit was, no surprise, exactly the right size for him. The fabric felt strange on his skin, but he zipped it up with ease and tossed the sheet onto the bed. The armour clipped on easily, and once he was fully dressed Lance went to check his hair in the mirror out of sheer habit.

His reflection barely looked like him. Dark bags shadowed his lower eyelids, and the galran armour made him look bulkier than he’d ever been. His limbs looked almost spindly in comparison, and while he’d always been lean and pointy his face now looked gaunt in an unhealthy way. He looked down at the helmet in his hands, then back at his reflection as he fitted it over his head. He just had to play along until he found a way to get out of here.


	9. Chapter 9

“You’re scrawnier than I remember.”

Lance stared at the galra with his flattest expression, and she snorted. “C’mon, toothpick.” she turned and gestured for him to follow her through a doorway. The sentry behind him lifted its gun to knock against his backplate when he didn’t follow, and Lance glared over his shoulder at it until the door shut behind him. “Lotor wants you trained up, so first we gotta get your baselines.” she gestured at an array of almost-familiar machines. “Pick your poison.”

Lance scanned the equipment, doing his best to match each one to its equivalent he’d seen in the Garrison’s weight room. After a long moment, he started towards the treadmill. He’d always been a good runner, best base-stealer in Varadero ever since he and his peers were old enough to play pick-up games, and he was pretty sure he remembered reading something online about humans being uniquely suited to endurance running. If he could impress Lotor, there was a chance he’d be guarded less carefully, given more freedom to move about the ship as he pleased; and with increased freedom came increased chances to escape. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been with the druids, everything had faded into a purpley blur after the first few sessions, but he doubted it had been long enough for Blue to completely forget him.

“Sprinting?” the General chuckled. “You’re a weird one, Toothpick.”

“The name’s Lance.” he huffed, running his finger over the buttons of the treadmill until one of them made the display light up under his hand. “Not that you’ve told me yours.” he almost winced as soon as the words left his mouth. Sass was entirely counter-productive to the act he needed to sell. Obedient soldiers didn’t talk back.

The hulking galra stared at him for a few long seconds, then burst out laughing. “Oh, I can't _wait_ for you to meet Ezor.” she grinned. “You two are going to get along like a nightmare.”

“¿Por qué no estoy tranquilo por eso?” Lance muttered under his breath. The controls were simple enough, but after a few experimental jabs he realized that it wasn’t responding to his touch. Right, galra tech, there was a DNA lock. The General walked over, still chuckling, and punched a few buttons with practiced ease.

“Name’s Zethrid.” she said as the belt began to move under Lance’s feet. “Like the star.”

Lance’s face must’ve given away his confusion, because Zethrid’s eyebrows rose on her purple forehead. “You don’t even know the major stars?”

“Not really?” Lance shrugged, falling into an easy jog as the treadmill sped up. He knew a few, mostly systems he’d been to for Voltron missions or Coalition shows, but he kinda doubted the names in the castle’s database matched Imperial records. Huh, now there was a though, the galra probably had a name or designation for the sun. He’d have to find a starmap later that wasn’t DNA-locked and check that.

“Damn, looks like Narti’s got her work cut out for her.” Zethrid made a strange whistle through her pointed teeth, crossing her arms as she shifted all her weight to one leg. Her eyes flicked over Lance, and he wrenched his gaze from the galra to stare at the far wall instead. He’d be running for a while yet, that gave him time to think. He had to get out of here, that much was clear. He already had more freedom than he’d been given in druid custody, no cuffs on his wrists or ankles and nothing tethering him to the treadmill.

He wrenched his mind away from that thought, almost physically flinching. He wasn’t there anymore, he was- well, not safe, but not there anymore. This room was nearly empty, the lights just a shade blue of neutral white, and when his gaze fell to the treadmill’s display it showed only the speed and incline of the belt. No heartbeat monitor, no oxygen mask to restrict his airflow, no masked aliens crowding around him with their glowing eyes and reaching hands and- He stumbled, hands flying out to grab the edges of the monitor, and yelped as he caught it with his chin instead.

Zethrid was there in an instant, switching off the treadmill before she turned to face him. “The quiznack was that?”

“Sorry.” he panted, sitting up with one hand pressed to his chest. His heart was racing, pulse pounding in his ears far louder than it should for the pace he’d been going. “Sorry, I-” he paused, unsure what to say, then shook his head. “I think you should test me on something else.” he pressed both hands to the floor, doing his best to hide how they shook now that the adrenaline was leaving his body.

“And I think that’s a load of shit, Toothpick.” Zethrid narrowed her eyes, fluffy ears bristling. “Now get back on that treadmill and start from the top. I can’t train you up to our level until I know what I’m working with.”

Lance opened his mouth to argue, then shut it silently. He had to cooperate, had to play along, just until they trusted him enough to let him find the escape pods and get the hell outta dodge. That was the only reason why he was here in this stupid armour instead of, well, curled up in his cell-room mostly naked. He forced himself to nod and managed to get back to his feet, hopefully without shaking too noticeably. “Right, of course.” he said, his voice flat and emotionless. He stepped up onto the treadmill, and fixed his gaze firmly on the far wall.

There were no druids here, no chains or tubes or wires. He wasn’t quite safe, or free, but he wasn’t there, and that was a distinct improvement over his situation... yesterday? Fuck, it was hard to keep track of time in space. Whatever, it was better here than it had been there. He was still a prisoner, but he wasn’t a specimen. Breathing deep, he got back on the treadmill and started walking when the belt came to life.

First things first, he had to properly take stock of his situation. He was still pretty definitively a prisoner, but overall it was a lot less awful than before. He had armour, and no cuffs, and the only things that kept him from just walking out were robot sentries and DNA-locked doors. And, considering that the robots had to be able to get around, one of those cancelled the other out. He’d surely be exhausted by the time he got out from under Zethrid’s watchful eye, but he could watch for passing patrols on the way back to his cell and try to get a feel for their movements.

It had only taken him a few weeks to get the feel of the guard schedules at the Garrison, and robots were less variable than people so it’d probably be even easier here. Well, as long as he didn’t tip Lotor off that he was planning something. Those cameras in his room would have to be dealt with, or he’d have guards on his ass before he was even halfway to the escape pods. Which, he needed to figure out where they were, damn. That’d take longer, especially if he was escorted everywhere.

Closing his eyes, he took a measured breath and let it out slowly. If he could trick Lotor into trusting him, getting out would be so much easier. Of course, that’d involve _tricking Lotor_ , which would mean interacting with him and not falling prey to those strange, hypnotic golden eyes of his. “So, when am I going to meet the rest of the Generals?” he asked Zethrid, keeping his tone conversational.

“Soon enough, Toothpick.” Zethrid grinned, her teeth sharp and in all honesty more than a little intimidating. “I’m only in charge of getting you up to speed physically. Weapons and language are Axca and Narti’s jobs.”

“And the rest?” Lance prompted, bringing up the name Zethrid had mentioned earlier. The General shrugged, looking perfectly indifferent.

“Dunno ‘bout Ezor, but Lotor might help you with piloting if he decides you need it.”

Lance rolled his eyes, and went back to staring at the treadmill display. Five galra, and a complement of robot sentries. By the numbers it sounded easy, but he was probably the only prisoner they had on-board. Shiro’d had the advantage of being one prisoner among many, even if he was higher profile than most thanks to his renown in the arena. Shiro had also had Marmorite help in the form of Ulaz, which Lance couldn’t count on. The odds of their allies having infiltrated Lotor’s inner circle were, frankly, non-existent. No, he was alone here, the sole captive of five of the most dangerous galra still in play.

Shutting his eyes, he ran over the situation again. Cameras in his cell, door locks he couldn’t bypass without a sentry’s arm, a ship he didn’t know the layout of, and five hyper-competent jailers with no other prisoners to keep track of. Oh, and no rescue on the way either. He honestly couldn’t think of any time he’d been in this bad of a situation before, but this wasn’t the first time escape had seemed impossible. He just had to keep his wits about him, gain the trust Lotor and the Generals, and he’d be scott-free.

Right, _just_ gain the trust of their sworn enemies. He was well and truly fucked.


	10. Chapter 10

Lance fell onto his bed face-first, groping blindly for the pillow so he could drag it down and groan into it. It was one thing to see the effects of his time in druid custody every time he looked in the mirror, and another to _feel_ the effects after a day of being pushed to his limits. His limbs felt like sacks of molten lead, his sides burnt in agony, and his heart was still hammering against the inside of his chest so hard it made his head spin. The lower edge of his galran breastplate bit into his stomach uncomfortably, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to remove it, or any of the other uncomfortable pieces of armour on his person.

He’d never been a heavy lifter like Hunk, but he was _good_ at running, and yet the numbers attached to his name on the datapad Zethrid had showed him today were all at least one digit shorter than the lowest ranked General’s. In everything, across the board, he didn’t measure up. It made sense, of course, he was still half-starved and not even a proper adult yet, but that didn’t make it sting any less. Even his accuracy with a rifle was down, dropped so far Axca had doubled his score with one eye shut. His cell door opened, and he groaned loudly into his pillow. He didn’t have the energy to play nice right now, to act the part of an eager student or loyal soldier or whatever the fuck they wanted of him.

“I brought dinner.” Lotor said, and Lance turned his head to stare blankly at the galran Emperor. Lotor had been an enigma as an enemy, and living on his ship hadn’t made him any less confusing. “Zethrid said you were too exhausted to join us in the mess.”

Lance buried his face in his pillow again. “Everything hurts.” he groaned, and Lotor chuckled. Asshole.

“You have my apologies.” there was the scrape of his desk chair being pulled out, and the soft sound of Lotor seating himself on it. “From looking over... certain files, it appears that humans recover much more slowly than galra.”

Lance grunted, squinting one eye open to blearily watch Lotor. What was he getting at? If Lotor wanted him gone, all he had to do was order him cuffed and have a couple sentries march him down to the brig.

“As you are, I’m afraid you simply won’t be able to keep up.” Lotor sighed, leaning one elbow on Lance’s desk and propping his chin in his hand. “And unfortunately, I simply don’t have a reason to keep a soldier who can’t keep up.”

Lance’s heart jumped in his chest anew, pounding so hard he could hardly breathe. If Lotor gave him up, gave him _back_ \- he squeezed his eyes shut, but it did nothing to stop the images flashing across the backs of his eyelids. He couldn’t, he’d die, he’d sooner shoot himself than go back there.

“Lance?” Lotor’s voice was soft, concerned, and Lance’s whole body flinched away from the hand that brushed his elbow. His eyes flew open and he found himself pressed against the wall, Lotor leaning over him asn his lungs screamed for oxygen that his panic-tightened throat simply couldn’t provide. “Lance, look at me.” Lotor’s hand gripped his elbow this time, and Lance couldn’t pull free. He couldn’t-

“ **Look at me.** ” Lotor growled, other hand gripping Lance by the jaw and forcing his chin up. His eyes met Lotor’s, pools of indigo in liquid gold, and the hand on his elbow fell away. “Breathe.” he commanded, and Lance gulped for air. The rush of oxygen made him dizzy all over again, but Lotor’s gentling grip on his chin made sure their gazes remained locked. “I cannot justify keeping a soldier who recovers so slowly, but I do not wish to return you to Haggar.” he murmured, thumb tracing Lance’s cheek. “She would waste your prowess as a lowly specimen, when you belong at my side.”

Lance leaned into Lotor’s touch, barely blinking. It felt like he was falling, drowning in blue and gold, and he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

“So, I have brought you a solution.” he lifted a small glass vial into Lance’s peripheral vision. “This is quintessence, extracted from the strongest of species, processed, and diluted. Take this, and you will progress by leaps and bounds. Your position here will be all but assured.” he lowered his hand, and Lance gasped as the Emperor looked away. The sensation wasn’t unlike coming up for air after diving just a hair shy of too deep to return, but... he was breathing again, his heart finally slowing in his chest.

“Of course, I cannot force you to take it.” Lotor continued, reaching down to pick something up off the floor. “If you would rather not become my guard-”

“I’ll do it.” Lance said quickly. Sucking up to Lotor, while not exactly pleasant, was miles better than being a druid lab rat. Better chances of escape, too. “I’ll take the quintessence.”

“I thought you’d say that.” Lotor grinned, and lifted a thing that looked, well, kinda like a test tube made of dull metal the same colour as the insignia on Lotor’s breastplate. “Tell me, Lance, do you know what this is?”

Lance shook his head, and Lotor’s grin widened. “It is an injector. Quintessence, when processed as this has been, is best administered intravenously. Would you like to see how to fill it?”

Lance swallowed, and nodded. This was going to suck, this was going to _majorly_ suck, but it was better than letting the druids have him again. Anything was better than that.

“It’s quite simple, really.” Lotor turned the bottle of quintessence upside down, pale yellow liquid sloshing only slightly with the motion. It looked like lemonade, he thought briefly, and forced down a pang of longing. He could mourn his memories of the taste of Mami’s lemonade later, when he was alone. Right now he had a part to play. He watched attentively as Lotor demonstrated how to seal the flat end of the injector to an indent in the cap and fill it with quintessence, made note of which graduated line the fluid stopped at when Lotor pushed the excess back out along with a few air bubbles, gauged the weight of it in his palm when Lotor handed over the loaded space-syringe.

“Galra have a vein here.” Lotor said, turning Lance’s arm and running his fingers along the inside of his elbow. “Do humans?”

Lance nodded, and lifted a hand to unzip his bodysuit as far as he could without removing his cuirass. “We have one here, as well.” he said, peeling the fabric down and tilting his head to expose the side of his neck. Lotor inhaled sharply, too soft to call a gasp but only just, and Lance tucked that little tidbit of information away as he held the injector back out to Lotor. “It’s more accessible with the suit on, but I can’t see it myself, so...” he trailed off as Lotor accepted the device, and held perfectly still as cool metal pressed to his neck.

He should be scared, he knew he should be scared. Lotor, Emperor of the Galra Empire, was holding a needle to his neck in perfect position to kill him without batting an eye. Instead, however, he just felt vaguely empty. It was almost like the horror of potentially being returned to the druids had sucked everything else out of him, leaving him adrift and connected to reality only by the barest of strings. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on what he could feel for sure. His heartbeat slowing in his chest, the stitches in his sides beginning to burn again, Lotor’s claws on his chin, tilting his head up and sideways to reveal as much neck as possible. The injector pressed to his skin again, and this time emitted a soft beep.

“Perfect.” Lotor murmured, and Lance couldn’t help but jolt as something stabbed into and back out of his neck. He yelped, jerking back, and hissed out a curse as his hands flew up to cradle the smarting back of his head. The side of his neck ached slightly, but a warmth quickly spread from the injection site. First it swept up, soothing his stinging scalp, then back down into his chest and from there into his limbs. It eased away the ache in his muscles, exhaustion fading in the face of a comforting, almost peaceful warmth.

“Feeling better?” Lotor smiled as Lance’s eyes fluttered open. He nodded, sitting forward and crossing his legs.

“Much.” he said, and wasn’t that the understatement of the century. He felt light as a feather, energy rushing into his newly-reinvigorated muscles, and the brain fog from earlier was completely gone. He felt like he could get up and run a marathon, and probably pass a history test while he was at it. And he hated history!

“I gave you a fraction of a dose.” Lotor held up the injector, showing Lance that probably 95% of the fluid was still inside, now coming exactly to one of the lines. “Take the rest in the morning, and we’ll see how well you can hold up with its aid.”

Lance nodded, and remembered a split second later that he was supposed to be playing the part of a model soldier. “Of course, Sir.” he stood when Lotor did, pressing his right fist to his left breast in salute.

“Now that you’ve recovered from Zethrid’s training...” Lotor set the injector and bottle of quintessence down on Lance’s desk, and picked up two plates of food. “I did come here to ensure you ate.” he walked back over, and Lance accepted the plate that was handed him. Same as yesterday, a slab of some purple alien meat over greenish rice-like stuff in yellow-green sauce. Nothing on Hunk’s cooking, but a damn sight better than the castle’s food goo.

“Thank you, Sir.” Lance inclined his head, and sat down on the edge of his bed when Lotor did. He could probably escape right now, if he tried. Lotor was here, the Generals would all be in the mess save maybe one on the bridge, and from what he’d seen of the ship’s layout the escape pods were located in logical positions. He could escape, but... he looked down at his plate, and his stomach growled. He would be escaping hungry, fuelled only by a teaser shot of an alien drug with yet-unknown side effects. He had no way of knowing where they were in space, where Voltron was, hell he didn’t even know if he’d be able to pilot the escape pod to avoid recapture.

He could escape now, but he would either die or- he shook his head doggedly, and set to cutting up his food. If he tried right now, he would fail, simple as that. He couldn’t count on Voltron coming for him, couldn’t count on anyone being there to help if he fucked up, so if he wanted to get out and _stay_ out his plan had to be airtight. He needed to know where he was headed after he made it to a pod, how to shake the inevitable pursuit, and how to get a distress signal out without drawing Lotor’s attention.

That last one was going to be the hardest, probably, but he had a feeling that this processed quintessence did more than just relieve physical discomfort. His head felt clearer, his mind sharper, and if his hunch was right it’d help him learn Galran Standard that much faster. Once he could read the language, he’d be able to make use of the near-unrestricted access his datapad had to the ship’s computers, and from there it was just a matter of figuring out what frequencies Imperial ships didn’t track.

Tuning an Imperial pod to broadcast on those frequencies would probably be easier said than done, but that was a bridge he was willing to cross when he came to it.


	11. Chapter 11

“Well, that was a disaster.” Shiro groaned, falling down to sit slumped on the edge of the ring of pods.

“I’m sorry.” Allura apologized, sinking to sit on the short ledge at his side. “I should have-”

“You did everything you could.” Shiro cut her off, rubbing at the front of his right shoulder through his flight suit. “Without Lance...” he sighed, and she rested a hand on his wrist.

“We all miss him.” she said softly. Staying busy, maintaining her starstone mask, it helped most of the time. But then things happened, situations like today where Lance’s presence was keenly missed, and she felt it like a knife between her ribs all over again. Today’s battle had been hard, only a victory in the most technical of terms, leaving the zuhran without a planet to return to and her Paladins worn thin with exhaustion and anger.

“I don’t know how much longer we can keep going like this.” Shiro admitted, dropping his head into his hands. Allura moved her hand to the back of his shoulders. “The Empire knows that we’re down a Paladin, they’re going to keep throwing more and more at us until they find our breaking point, and when they do...”

He trailed off in a soft groan, and Allura moved her hand from his upper back to his far shoulder. “We can only hope-”

“Hope what, that the Blue Lion miraculously finds someone compatible with the four of us?” Shiro sat up straight, shrugging off her hand. “We don’t have the luxury of training a new Paladin, even if Blue does find one.” he slumped again, and Allura rested her hand on his elbow this time.

“I will speak with her.” she assured Shiro softly. “We can only hope that this time, she will listen.”

“Shit.” Shiro dropped his head into his hands again, slumping sideways against her.

“Agreed.” she muttered, letting her shoulders droop and her head fall forwards. It had been nothing short of a miracle that Blue brought her five Paladins at once, five aliens with just the right backgrounds to form a team that, when fully assembled, worked together as fluidly as the Paladins of Old had.

She looked up, eyes scanning over the active pods. Across from them, Pidge and Hunk, their readouts showing mostly-repaired compound fractures. In every other pod, zuhrans with broken or missing limbs, each and every one dehydrated and malnourished and suffering from the near-necrotic bite of space’s vacuum. And these were the ones who had survived long enough to be placed in a pod. She could hardly bear to think about the ones who hadn’t.

“Hey, Allura?” Shiro’s voice was soft, pulling her gently back to the moment. She looked over, and saw him wearing a small smile. “I’m glad we’ve got each other to lean on. I don’t think I could be half as open with Coran.”

Allura snorted, a hand immediately flying up to cover her mouth. Shiro’s smile widened, and he pulled her along as he straightened up so she was leaning against his shoulder. instead of the other way ‘round. “I don’t think I could, either.” she admitted, once the threat of giggles had abated. “He means well, and he’s an excellent advisor, but...” she trailed off, and shook her head with a rueful chuckle. Coran did best with problems that could be solved. If she went to him with this, he would have only empty words and ancient stories to comfort her.

“Yeah.” Shiro nodded, and she relaxed against him slightly.

“I am glad as well.”

\---

The castle shook violently, nearly throwing Allura off her feet. Her ears still rang from the explosion which had roared through Keith’s comms before they went to static, the Red Lion splayed at an odd angle in a galran tractor beam. “Coran, you have the bridge.” she said, her voice distant and strange to her own ears. Reaching for the Blue Lion, she found nothing. That didn’t stop the zipline door from opening for her, though, nor did it stop her from gripping the handle and all but throwing herself down the passageway. The speeder at the base of the zipline carried her right up to Blue’s force-field, and she stepped out of it as soon as it came to a stop.

Her heartbeat was simultaneously distant and thunderous, the loudest thing she could hear in the silent absence of the Blue Lion in her head. “Open up.” she curled her hand into a fist and slammed the side against Blue’s bubble. The Lion growled, a physical sound which shook the hangar and Allura’s body right down to her bones. “I was your Paladin once, and now I need to be once more.”

Blue growled again, something she felt more than heard, and she slammed her fist into the particle barrier a second time. “Open!” she demanded, and Blue roared at her. “We need Voltron, and you’re being- being- ugh!” she punched the barrier full-on, knuckles scraping against the inside of her flight suit. Blue made a sound she couldn’t properly hear, and a wave of foreign emotion washed over Allura.

“I miss him too.” she murmured, head falling forwards as she splayed her hand to press her palm to Blue’s shield. “He was my friend.”

Blue nudged at her mind, a gentle urge to return to the bridge, and Allura steeled herself against the Lion’s will. “Lance was my friend.” she said firmly. “His death was tragic, but I refuse to let it be the reason I lose the rest of my friends today.” she lifted her head, looking up and up and up until her eyes met the Blue Lion’s. “We need Voltron.” she said as authoritatively as she could. “We need _you_.”

For a long tick, there was silence. Then, with a groan like one of the great glaciers of Nalquod splitting open, Blue sank into a crouch. Icy cold rushed through Allura’s veins as the shield came down panel by flickering panel, and she rushed forwards as soon as she was able. The interior remained worryingly dark as she hurried to the cockpit, but when she seated herself at the controls they did flicker to life. In every action, though, she could feel the Blue Lion’s hesitance.

“Let’s go.” she tilted the controls forwards, and Blue rose to her feet. Loss and longing radiated from the chill spot between her lungs, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she guided Blue out of the hangar. “I don’t want to do this either, but we have to.” she told the Lion, tightening her grip on the controls. “For Lance.”

Blue roared in agreement, and Allura threw herself into her bond with the blue Lion. It was tenuous, a fragile thing born of necessity and filled with grief. She’d thought the Blue Lion stubborn, but she had been wrong. Blue was grieving just as strongly as the rest of them, in her own way. Fingers flying over the controls, she activated Blue’s comms and patched them through to her earrings. Grief would have to wait for now, they had a battle to win.

“Paladins, converge on me.” she said firmly, angling towards the Red Lion. “We must form Voltron.”

“Yes!”  
“Finally!”  
“Red’s hurt, but we’ll try.”

Allura grinned, tight and controlled, and glanced at the edge of Blue’s viewscreen to see Black gliding next to her.

“Coran, buy us some time with those cannons.” Shiro ordered. “Form Voltron!”

Allura shut her eyes, opening herself up as a conduit through which the Blue Lion could connect to her pride. She felt the immense power of the Blue Lion pressing against her, then a spike of agony as searing cold rushed through her, the Lions combining into a single being, a single consciousness. she could feel the others through the bond, but only faintly, their energies masked by the veil of Voltron’s burning presence.

“Allura!”

She gasped, and realized her throat ached. Had she been screaming? “I’m here.” she coughed.

“We know that, are you hurt?” Pidge asked, voice sharp with worry.

“No. Perhaps?” Allura winced as cold crackled through her body. “I can still fight.”

“Good, because we’ve got a battleship at 2 o’clock that’s just about ready to fire.” Keith interjected.

“Pidge, form shield.”

“On it!”

Allura screwed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw, shivering involuntarily as power colder than the void of space flowed through her. The battle was soon ended, and as soon as Voltron split she slumped in Blue’s pilot seat. Returning to the castle was a blur, and when she stumbled down Blue’s jaw ramp she all but fell onto Hunk.

“Princess, are you alright?” Shiro asked, and she groaned into Hunk’s shoulder.

“I will be.” she managed, but made no move to push off of Hunk. Her legs felt stiff with cold, but simultaneously like they would collapse if she tried to support her own weight. “But, perhaps...” she trailed off, catching her lower lips between her teeth. She hated to be the one to suggest it, especially with Blue’s grief like a tide in the back of her mind, but it had to be done. “Perhaps it is time we begin to look for a new Blue Paladin.”


	12. Chapter 12

Lance shut his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall behind him with a soft sigh as warmth swept through his body. It flushed the lingering exhaustion from his system, replacing it with pools of energy just waiting to be used. Rising to his feet, he stretched leisurely before padding over to his desk and tucking the injector away in the drawer. Dressing took no time at all, the clasps on his galran armour already familiar under his fingers, and he glanced in the mirror to evaluate his hair. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought it was growing faster than usual. More likely, though, he’d been due for a trim even before the druids.

Grabbing the brush on his desk, he pushed his bangs out of his eyes and dragged the bristles through his hair. He flashed a quick smirk at his reflection as the door opened, and turned to see- not Zethrid, but Narti. That was unusual.

“Zethrid feeling sick today?” he asked, cocking his head to the side as he set down the brush. Narti lifted her hands, signing her answer slow enough for him to understand.

«I told her you would be late.»

Lance frowned. “Is something wrong?”

«You plan to leave.»

Lance only barely stifled a wince. “Why would I do that?” he asked instead.

«That is what I want to know.» Narti stepped into the room, and Lance took an automatic step back to maintain the distance between them. «I will not hurt you.»

“Forgive me if I don’t believe that.” he muttered. “The last people who went digging in my head weren’t exactly _gentle_.”

Narti stilled, and inclined her head slightly. «Lotor said not to hurt you.» she signed. «I will not.» she lifted her head as if looking at him, and cocked it slightly sideways. «But I need to be sure you will not hurt Lotor.»

Lance did wince at that. “Can you really blame me?” he asked. “I’m a prisoner here, escaping is kinda what human prisoners _do_.”

«If you want to leave, I will not stop you.»

Lance blinked, shock momentarily striking him dumb. “What?”

«None of us will.» Narti signed, her posture and sharp signs conveying a sense of exasperation. «You are not a prisoner, you are-» she made a sign Lance didn’t recognize, then after a moment repeated it in fingerspelling.

“Clade?” he frowned. He thought he might’ve heard the word from some of the Marmorites once or twice, but he had no context for it. Narti’s shoulders dropped, her head tilting back slightly in clear annoyance.

«Dictionary.» she signed, and Lance grabbed for the datapad on his desk. The Galran alphabet had come to him more easily than he anticipated, and he typed the word into the search bar to bring up its entry. The language itself was trickier, though he had a sneaking suspicion that it would’ve been completely indecipherable without the booster, and he slowly read the definition out loud.

“Any member of... the pack of a friend or mate?” he looked up from the screen with a frown.

«We have no pack.» Narti signed, using the gesture for We that indicated the ship as a whole. «We are clade.» she stepped closer, and this time Lance didn’t step away. «We are clade?» she repeated, this time using the We sign that indicated just the two of them and ending with a flourish that denoted a question. Oh.

 _Oh_.

“Yeah.” Lance nodded slowly, running over the Galran grammar in his head before he continued. “We are clade.” he said, contorting his mouth around the inhuman noises. After just a week on Lotor’s ship, they trusted him enough to call him part of their family. He blinked hard, pushing away thoughts of his moms and siblings back home.

«May I?» Narti signed, and lifted her hands towards his head. Lance nodded, and sat in his desk chair so he wouldn’t collapse on the floor when she was done. Her touch was warm, her skin tougher than any callouses he’d ever felt, and Lance’s eyes fluttered shut as a voice whispered something in the back of his head, galran too fast for him to pick out individual words but completely comprehensible all the same. Just as she’d said, it didn’t hurt, and he opened his mind to her further.

He could feel her sifting through his memories, and cringed away as she peered through the work of the druids. Narti’s voice, for surely the voice he was hearing could only be hers, murmured apologies as she pored over the days he’d done his best to forget, and he exhaled slightly as she reached more recent recollections. She lingered again on that first day, and Lance felt a flash of gratitude that Lotor had given him the booster. If he was still trying to forge along at the rate he’d been going at back then, well, he probably would’ve given up and killed himself by now to keep himself out of druid hands.

Eventually, he felt Narti’s presence receding, and reached out mentally to ensnare her. It wasn’t that different from reaching for Blue, and he had the feeling she wasn’t used to her subjects reaching out at all. Loosening his grip, he sent her an impression of gratitude, and received a burst of startled warmth in response. Then her presence was gone, and everything faded.

\---

Lance blinked his eyes open, and frowned at the sight of Narti sitting on his bed with a purring Kova in her lap. “I’m late for training, aren’t I?” he groaned.

«I told Zethrid you would be joining her after breakfast.» Narti signed, looking as relaxed as he’d ever seen her. «What do you remember of this morning?»

“Uh, not much?” he frowned, pushing himself upright. “You came in, made me look up the word clade...” a grin flickered across his face at that. One week with these galra, and they considered him family. That was more than he could say for Team Voltron, and he’d been one of them for way longer.

«And after that?» Narti prompted.

“Blank, sorry.” he shrugged. A frown tugged at his lips, and he stood to walk over to the mirror. His sclera were yellow, the colour spread to tint his irises an unnatural shade of green all the way through. So he’d had his booster for the day, probably about a tock ago judging by the spread. “Did you knock me out or something?” he asked, turning to look at Narti.

«I read your mind.» she signed, and Lance’s stomach dropped. «No pain, right? Just like I promised.»

He opened his mouth, then shut it again without a word. She was right, he felt... a little groggy, but nothing like he had after druid sessions. “What did you do?” he asked hoarsely.

«Just looked.» Narti replied, dropping one hand at the end of her sentence to scratch behind Kova’s ears. «I can alter memories later, if you want.»

“Why would I want that?” he asked, maybe a bit sharper than necessary.

«You want to forget the druids.» Narti signed, and Lance shuddered. «You want to learn Galran faster, so you can fly again.»

That was, well, technically true, but he elected not to correct her on it. “And you can help with that?”

«Not all at once.» she paused, then her shoulders shook with a laugh. «I can explain once you learn more sign.»

Lance crossed his arms with a huff, but couldn’t quite stop the smile that pulled at his lips. When they weren’t trying to kill him, Lotor’s Generals were pretty cool people.


	13. Chapter 13

“Lance.”

“Lotor.” Lance straightened up, reflexively locking the screen of his datapad.

“You’re settling in well.” Lotor smiled, his teeth just sharp enough to send shivers down Lance’s spine. “I hear that you’re almost field ready.”

Field ready. Zethrid and Acxa had been saying that a lot, lately, but something still squirmed uncomfortably in his gut at the thought of accompanying them on whatever missions Lotor sent them out on. “Only almost.” he demurred.

“Of course, you won’t remain that way for long, will you?” Lotor’s smile sharpened, taking on a cruel edge. “You’ve only a day of quintessence left, and once that is out...” he splayed his fingers, as if letting Lance’s relative safety here slip through his fingers.

“What do you want?” Lance asked, fingers curling into his palms.

“How callous do you think I am?” Lotor pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I want my Generals to remain at peak efficiency.” he lowered his hand, and withdrew a vial from a pouch on the inside of his skirt. “Here.” he held out the vial, and Lance took it silently. It looked... not darker than the remainder of his current vial, but not as pale. More vibrant, perhaps.

“Thank you, Lotor.” he inclined his head, closing his hand around the vial and tucking it close to his chest in an approximation of a galran salute. With this, he could wean himself off the booster when he left instead of going cold turkey. Something that provided this much of a benefit would almost definitely have killer withdrawal symptoms if he stopped taking it suddenly.

“I hear that you still wish to leave.” Lotor said, and Lance held the vial tighter to his chest. His time here had been strange for any number of reasons, but Lotor was possibly the largest of those reasons. He knew Lance wanted to leave, and he had done nothing but ply him with words and offers that sounded far, far too good to be true. After all, who would elevate a former enemy to be one of their personal elite?

“Of course.” Lance gauged how far it was to the door, how easy it would be for Lotor to intercept him. The rough odds of his likelihood of escape if Lotor pounced on him here didn’t look good.

“But why?” Lotor frowned, looking altogether too put-out for someone who was certainly faking it. “We’ve given you a room appropriate to your station, training, medical assistance.” he inclined his head at the quintessence clutched in Lance’s hand. “You’re no more a prisoner than any of my other Generals.”

“I have to get back to Voltron.” he said, the words nearly rote by this point.

“But _why_?” Lotor stepped forwards, using the tips of his fingers to tip Lance’s chin up so their eyes met. “They’ve given your Lion to another, treated you as nothing more than a disposable pawn. Why return to them, when you are so much more valued here?”

Lance opened his mouth, then shut it without a word. The more he thought about it, the more his usual excuses sounded like just that, excuses. Why _did_ he want to leave so badly? He felt more at home here than he ever had on the castle, Lotor and the Generals had accepted him into their little family fully and without hesitation. Hell, Lotor had been the one who discovered him in druid clutches and stolen him away. Lotor had given him tempered quintessence to justify keeping him from Haggar, something which had doubtless cost him a considerable amount of money.

“They’re my friends.” he said at last.

“Are you sure?” Lotor frowned, the picture of genuine concern. “They replaced you, Lance. Gave the Blue Lion to another without even looking for you.”

Lance flinched, looking away. He couldn’t deny that that still stung. The Lions couldn’t be given, they had to choose their Paladins. He’d thought that Blue had made her favourite clear when she took him back, but evidently he’d thought wrong. Lotor’s fingers pressed on the underside of his chin, guiding him to look up until their eyes met again.

“Stay, Lance.” Lotor whispered. “Stay with us, with me.” his hand slid back along Lance’s jaw, cupping it briefly before moving to the back of his neck, rubbing at the nape. His expression was open and earnest, his eyes blue and gold and so, so hard to look away from. “Stay.” he murmured, thumb straying to brush just under Lance’s ear. A different sort of shiver than earlier passed through him, his mouth falling open ever so slightly.

“I-”

“Please.” Lotor bent down to press their foreheads together, the hypnotic swirl of his eyes filling Lance’s entire vision. “Stay. Become one of my Generals.”

Lance swallowed hard, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Lotor’s eyes flicked down at the motion, then back up. They were so, so blue. Blue like the sky just past sundown, blue like the flowers that grew along the edge of the sand back home, blue like drowning. He was drowning, and Lance realized he didn’t want to stop drowning. Somehow, without his noticing, Lotor’s ship had become more home than the castle ever was.

“I will.” he promised, the words heavy on his tongue. He wanted this, wanted it so badly it scared him just a little. The easy camaraderie between himself and the Generals, their faith in his skills, the feeling of being not only needed but _wanted_. His eyes drifted shut as Lotor pulled away, then fluttered open again as gentle claws dragged across the underside of his jaw.

“Thank you, Lance.” Lotor breathed. “You have no idea how much this means to me, to find someone I know I can trust.”

Lance swallowed a whimper, staring up into Lotor’s unfairly beautiful eyes. Lotor, Emperor of most of the known universe, trusted him. Trusted him to be loyal, to serve with honour, to fight when asked. The thought of subjugating planets still made him uncomfortable, but for Lotor... for Lotor, he thought he would do just about anything. “I won’t let you down, Your Majesty.”

Lotor smiled, teeth sharp behind the fond curl of his lips. “I know you won’t.” he purred, stepping back. Lance leaned forwards slightly as Lotor’s hand left his chin, and stumbled forwards a step as Lotor turned away. “Sleep well, Lance. Tomorrow, your real training begins.”

Lance could only stare as the door closed behind Lotor, the crisp, cold scent of the Emperor’s shampoo hanging in the air. Stay. He- Lance groaned, staggering back until his legs hit the edge of the bed and he could collapse down onto it. He’d really said that, promised that he would stay and serve Lotor. He’d all but taken a knee and sworn fealty. Falling backwards, he stared up at the ceiling above his bed. It was hard to fall asleep on the best of nights now, another little side effect of the booster, but Lance had a feeling that tonight he’d be kept awake by more than just the excess energy in his system.

Lifting the vial of golden liquid, he stared up at its gently swirling contents. General Espinosa did have a certain ring to it.


	14. Chapter 14

“You missed training.” Zethrid said as he sat down at the one table in the tiny excuse for a mess hall. Lance groaned, and propped one elbow on the table so he could properly hide his face in his hand.

“Does quintessence go bad?” he asked, Galran syllables thick and awkward in his mouth. He was pretty sure he mangled the word quintessence, but his head hurt too much to worry about it for more than a fleeting moment.

“Nooo.” Ezor said slowly, and Lance heard her set down her spork. “But some of the more processed stuff can do weird things to a person’s head, not to mention the side effects.”

“Are migraines a side effect of medical-grade?” he lifted his other hand to aid in covering his eyes, not that it did much.

“Don’t think so.” Ezor’s hand landed on the top of his head and pushed, tilting his head up. “Lemme see.”

Lance whined, but let his shoulders slump as he lowered his hands. He knew how he must look to them, his skin sallow from lack of sun and sclera stained yellow by regular booster use, but Ezor’s face was a mass of pink-purple light and his eyes ached just trying to focus on it. Ezor released him, and he slumped to bury his face in his folded forearms on the table. “Let’s get you to Medical.” Ezor stood, walking around the table and grabbing Lance by the back of his collar to pull him to his feet.

Lance kept his eyes shut and head down as Ezor lead him by the shoulder to Medical, where he was pushed not-quite-gently to sit on the papered patient’s chair. It was brighter here than either his room or the mess hall, and he whined miserably as he buried his face in his hands. Ezor poked at him with various bright, glowy things, humming every so often, and Lance pressed his face harder into his hands when the door opened.

“What’s wrong?” Lotor asked, and Lance tensed. He wasn’t afraid anymore of the Emperor casting him aside for the druids to take back, not anymore, but he still didn’t want to disappoint him. Lotor wanted him field ready by the end of the movement, and he couldn’t do that if he was incapacitated like this.

“I’m not sure.” Ezor admitted, and a small, warm, bright weight settled in Lance’s lap. “We may need to go to a base with proper medical staff.”

“How far off-course will that take us?” he asked, and Lance lowered one hand to stroke Kova. The cheoc purred, arching into his touch, and he focused on that; on Kova’s sleek fur and warm body and pointy little claws digging into his bodysuit.

“Not far.” Ezor said easily, and the door opened again. “Oh, hey Narti.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Lotor spoke. “Of course.” he stepped towards Lance, and rested a hand gently on his shoulder. “Narti has brought something that may help reduce the strain on your eyes. Would you lift your head to let her put it on?”

Lance nodded slowly, and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. It didn’t help, he could still see the burning light that enveloped Lotor and the other Generals and most every piece of equipment in the room. One of the figures, Narti he guessed, stepped forward and raised her hands. He held perfectly still as something heavy and solid slid down over his head, feeling an awful lot like a spacesuit helmet, and then gasped as suddenly the lights just, went away. He opened one eye, then the other, and found Narti grinning at him through a dark tinted visor.

“Now I feel stupid.” he chuckled weakly, lifting his hands to adjust the helmet. “All I had to do was put on shades?”

«Not quite.» Narti signed, still smiling as she stepped back to give him some room. «Safety visor.»

“Specifically, one designed to protect the eyes of non-druids working with quintessence for extended periods of time.” Lotor smiled.

“Wait, you mean...” Lance trailed off, looking around the room. Now that it didn’t hurt to look at the glowing lines in the walls and floor and ceiling, he realized that they did seem to be laid out in nice, neat circuits. Narti clicked her fingers, drawing his attention back to her. Her light was a richer, more blueish purple than Lotor’s, and wove through and around her as she signed an answer.

«You’re a sensitive, Lance.» Narti signed quickly, thrusting her custom sign for his name forwards with more gusto than usual. He mentally appended a few exclamation points to her statement, and smiled. More genuine than his last one by a mile, and the way the others smiled back made his heart soar.

“So, different training today then?”

«Not just yet.» Narti’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, but her hands were steady as she signed.

“Yeah, quintessence sight or no, you still missed training with Zethy. That means you get to double down with _me_ instead.” Ezor’s grin flashed sharp teeth, and Lance grimaced. Ever since he caught up to the other Generals’ physical strength, Ezor had been in charge of bringing him up to speed in hand to hand. Unfortunately, her definition of “training” mostly consisted of kicking his ass repeatedly, with brief breaks for water and admonishment.

“Go easy on him today, Ezor.” Lotor chided, his smile undeniably fond. “That helmet is as much a handicap as a broken arm.”

“Spoilsport.” Ezor huffed, punching him in the shoulder. “C’mon, Lance, let’s get to work.”

“Can’t I get some food in me first?” Lance griped, gathering Kova into his arms and hopping down off the papered patient’s chair.

“I’ve not yet eaten today as well.” Lotor clapped a hand on Ezor’s shoulder. “And I’m sure you left most of your meal untouched, getting Lance in here.”

“Food, then sparring.” Ezor nodded. “It’ll give Narti time to get you a proper mask, too.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Lance followed Lotor and Ezor out into the hall, Narti on his heels. Kova hopped up onto his shoulder, then leapt to Narti’s and sprawled across her pauldron. His headache was already fading, now that the quintessence was no longer bright enough to be blinding, and he fell back a few steps to compare the colours of his friends. Ezor’s light was distinctly more pink than the other two, which wasn’t hard considering Narti and Lotor both ran on the indigo end of purple, with Narti leaning further into blue. Kova was just a shade more purple than the Emperor, and the rest of the lines of light he could see were the luminescent purple of fuel-grade quintessence.

He looked down at himself, lifting a hand to examine the light which flowed through his arm like blood. It was blue, more vibrant than Narti’s and close enough to pure he couldn’t detect any hints of green or purple. A chill swept through him, emanating from the burning void behind his heart which he’d learnt to ignore, and he lowered his arm to his side stiffly, fingers curling into a tight fist. She had abandoned him, just like the rest of his so-called friends. A tap on the back of his hand drew his attention back to the present, and he relaxed slightly as he smiled at Narti.

“I’m okay.” he assured her, looking back at Lotor and Ezor a few paces ahead of them. “I think, once we’ve got this whole quintessence sight thing handled...”

Narti tapped his shoulder again to get his attention. «Tell Lotor, not me.» she signed once he was looking, Kova’s tail flicking against her hood.

“I will.” Lance promised, returning his attention to Lotor’s back. The Emperor was smiling, laughing at something Ezor had said, and Lance felt a strange tug in his chest. He’d been afraid, before, of fully committing to Lotor’s side. Now, though... he couldn’t deny, they were truer friends than anyone in Team Voltron ever had been. They weren’t the monsters Allura had painted them to be, and if she’d lied to them about that, then how could he trust anything she’d said that he hadn’t confirmed with his own eyes?

Not all galra were evil, that was something he knew as true as his own heartbeat, and if Lotor wasn’t evil... perhaps staying on as one of his Generals wouldn’t be so bad. Doing field work for Lotor couldn’t possibly be worse than running missions with Voltron.


	15. Chapter 15

Lance stared at the mask in his hands, running his thumbs over the smooth material. It was heavier than it looked, its simple elegant curve disguising a protective ability equal to the newest helmets. “This is a druid mask.” he said, looking up at Narti as he gripped it tighter. Thinking about them no longer made him want to hurl, the worst of his memories locked away or blurred to mere ghosts, but the sight of their most identifying feature still made him uneasy.

«You won’t have to see it while you wear it.» she signed, and Lance grimaced. «You share their gift, and their curse.» she lifted a hand to tap the thick glass in front of his eyes. «Their equipment will serve you best.»

“I still don’t like it.” he muttered, turning the mask over and looking at the backside. He could see thin strings of dim purple running along the edges and around the eye-slits, with a pair of lines drawing from side to side above and below the eye holes he’d be looking through. “And how is this supposed to fix my peripheral vision problem?”

«Just put it on.» Narti signed, sharp and exasperated.

“Alright, alright.” Lance removed his helmet with one hand as he lifted the mask to his face with the other, and fed a bit of his own quintessence into it once the pale material touched his skin. The sensation was still strange, even after all his practice with Narti, and the feeling of the mask affixing itself to his face was even weirder. “Okay, that’s-” he sucked in a sharp breath as the mask folded outwards, wrapping around his head until it joined with the neck of his bodysuit.

His line of sight expanded, stretching from side to side until he was no less restricted than by a normal spaceworthy helmet, and his eyes flickered over the minimal HUD that popped up in his visor. Comms, basic targeting, remaining air supply, and a handful of icons to switch to other display settings. “That’s _fire_.” he breathed, turning to Narti with a grin. “I take it back, I like this thing.”

Narti’s shoulders shook in brief, silent laughter, and she pulled Lance to stand him in front of the mirror. From the outside, the mask looked unchanged; four eye slits in otherwise unadorned white, sharply pointed at the bottom in a way that reminded him almost of a beak. The helmet around it wasn’t very different from his old one, fitted close to his head and grey to match his armour, but now without the clear panel stretching halfway to the back of his head. Simple, clean, and viscerally terrifying even after Narti’s help. It was the eyes, the angle of them giving an impression of anger, watchfulness, and something older, something predatory.

«Now your enemies will know to fear you.» Narti signed, the motions backwards in the mirror.

“Is there any way to take the mask off without removing the rest of the helmet?” he asked, and Narti guided his hand to a small, barely noticeable depression in the metal just aside of his right cheek. He pressed gently, and the lower half of the mask snapped in two to hide within the metal on either side so fast it seemed almost to have vanished without a trace, like the lower parts of the Paladin helmets had. “Fire.” he muttered, and the his grin in the mirror looked strange under four slitted golden eyes. Looked dangerous, even with his blunt human teeth and sun-starved skin.

“Where’s Lotor?” he asked, pressing on the button again so his lower mask snapped back into place. “I want to tell him I’m ready.”

«Follow me.»

\---

Lance shut his eyes and drew a deep, steadying breath. This was nothing new, nothing he hadn’t done before. Admittedly, last time the circumstances had been different. Then it had been a formality, a performance to demonstrate a contract already sealed in blood. Now, it was for real.

“So, you have decided?” Lotor all but purred, his footsteps near-silent on the smooth metal floor.

“Yes.” Lance bowed his head briefly, and when he lifted it Lotor had seated himself in his captain’s throne. His posture was as relaxed as ever, chin propped up on one hand, ankle resting on his knee, eyes half lidded and fixed squarely on him.

“You may approach.” Lotor beckoned him closer. Lance walked forward, freeing his gun from its clip on his back, and knelt in front of Lotor. “What would you say to me, Lance?”

A hot prickle ran down Lance’s spine at the sound of his name in that tone, heavy and almost sensuous, almost too intimate for this moment. “I am here to offer my services, Emperor.” he held his gun out in front of himself, bowing his head in a show of respect.

The gun lifted from his hands, and Lance heard clearly the soft sound of metal coming to rest on fabric. “I accept your offer.” Lotor said, his voice smooth and nearly as hypnotic as his eyes. “What oath do you swear me?”

This was the part he couldn’t afford to mess up. “I swear fealty and service to the Galra Empire, and to the Emperor of the Universe,” he turned the Galran syllables carefully in his mouth, speaking in a measured tone. This was important, so important, more important than anything he’d done since Lotor saved him from the druids. He had to say this right, had to let Lotor know the depths of his sincerity. “To speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying,” he swallowed, neck prickling under the pressure of Lotor’s gaze, though he kept his eyes fixed on the Emperor’s shoes. “From this hour henceforth, until my Lord release me, or death take me, or the universe end.” he drew a shuddering breath, and closed his eyes. “So say I, Leandro son of Laura of the Republic of Cuba.”

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on forever, until it was broken by Lotor’s soft sigh. “Lance, you have to use _your_ name.” the Emperor chided, his slender fingers hooking under Lance’s jaw and tilting his head up until their eyes met. “But this once, I will forgive you. I, Lotor son of Zarkon, Emperor of the Galra Empire, hear your oath, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given.” his thumb traced the lower edge of Lance’s lip, sending hot sparks skittering over his skin, gathering in his cheeks. “Your valour with honor, your fealty with love,” his eyes seemed to glow brighter, and Lance only barely swallowed a whimper. “Your betrayal, may it never come to pass, with a swift and decisive end.”

Lotor’s fingers slid from under his chin, but only when he looked away did Lance’s head fall. His heart was pounding, his breaths coming short and fast, his cheeks burning with- he wasn’t even sure but it definitely wasn’t suitable for the occasion. He was- he’d given Lotor his word, sworn his life to the Emperor, to _his_ Emperor. He had nothing to be blushing about.

“Rise, Lance.” Lotor commanded, and Lance forced himself to his feet despite the weakness in his knees. “From today on, you will be a General of the Imperial Army.” Lotor held out Lance’s gun, and he accepted it with both hands. “I look forward to your service.”

“As I look forward to serving you, however my Liege desires.” He wouldn’t let Lotor down, he would prove himself worthy of his rank here in this empire where strength was paramount, would prove himself a greater and more loyal soldier than any member of the team which had betrayed him so utterly. Voltron had thought to leave him behind, but they would regret their decision. They would regret showing their true colours, now that he had found a cause which _deserved_ his wholehearted support.

“Vrepit Sa.” Lotor said, pressing a fist to his chest in the Imperial salute.

Lance shifted his gun to one hand and curled the other into a fist, pressing it over his heart as he looked up to meet Lotor’s eyes. “Vrepit Sa.”


	16. Chapter 16

“Lance.”

Lance looked up from his screen at Lotor’s voice, his hand falling from fiddling with his new ear piercings as he turned to look at his Emperor. Lotor beckoned him, and he stood from his seat to walk over to the Emperor’s side. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

Lotor’s lips quirked in a small, brief smile that more than justified the other Generals teasing him for his formality, and he spun his screen so Lance could see it. “I was wondering if you could shed some light on the tactics of these terrorists plaguing our more recently annexed worlds.” he flicked his fingers again, and a video began to play. It was shaky, silent, obviously pulled from a surviving drone fighter. Lance gritted his teeth, shoulders tensing under his armour. Voltron. His blood boiled at the sight of the giant robot, chest aching every time a sweep of rich blue crossed the screen.

“What do you want to know?” he asked, tearing his eyes from the evidence of his old team’s betrayal and looking to Lotor instead.

“Ideally, everything you can remember. For starters, though...” he spun the screen again, this time laying it flat and drawing five holographic Lions up from its surface. “We have only legends and educated guesses as to the nature of the Beasts of Voltron, and next to nothing on their pilots.”

Lance scanned the short scrolls of data next to each projected Lion, then nodded his head once. “The Black Lion is currently piloted by Takashi Shirogane, though you probably know him better as Champion. He’s a decisive and charismatic leader, much like his predecessor.” Black’s databox was easily three times the size of the next biggest, so he elected to skip the rest of that information. “The Red Lion is piloted by Keith Kogane, a part-galra member of the Blade of Marmora. She can fire blasts of flame hot enough to melt holes in a battleship’s hull in seconds, and is the fastest and most agile of the Lions. As the right arm of Voltron, the Red Paladin relies on reflexes and intuition to inform their support of the Black Paladin’s tactics.”

“Any weaknesses of note?” Lotor asked, and Lance realized Red’s text box was expanding with new data.

“Her tail gun has a slight delay, and her pilot is an awful shot at long range. Also he’s incredibly easy to bait, and will charge headfirst into a trap if nobody is watching his back.” Lance chuckled, recalling the last time that exact thing had happened.

“Excellent. What of the other three?” Lotor inclined his head slightly, a lock of hair falling loose from behind his ear.

“The Green Lion is the smallest, and her armour the weakest, but her pilot is a certifiable genius so there’s plenty of extra shit to make up for those shortcomings. The most combat applicable, though, is the cloaking field. Green’s also got this crazy vine cannon thing that makes plants grow on anything it hits, even in space. Don’t ask me how it works.” he lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a second to gather himself. “Pidge is small, but their bayard has near-unlimited reach, and they fight _dirty_. And, of course, they’re curious as hell, it’s a Green thing.”

“Interesting.” Lotor finished recording the new information, and Lance waited until the Emperor looked at him to continue.

“The Yellow Lion isn’t the biggest of them, but he is the bulkiest. His armour is damn near impenetrable with standard energy weapons, and his pilot Hunk...” Lance gritted his teeth, curling his hands into fists. “His pilot is damn good at _acting_ like he cares, like he’s trustworthy, but he’ll stab you in the back the second it’s convenient.” he spat. “Yellow isn’t great at long range, he’s more of a battering ram, and his armour’s heavy enough to make that a realistic approach. His pilot’s more cautious, strong and supportive as the left leg of Voltron should be, as long as you’re useful.”

Lotor’s fingers stilled, and Lance didn’t bother to wait before launching into the final one. His whole chest felt tight, his throat like it wanted to close up, and something hot pressed at the backs of his eyes. He shut them, and drew a deep breath. “The Blue Lion is equipped with an ice beam and sonic weapon, but her speed, agility, and armour are nothing special.”

“And her pilot?” Lotor prompted gently.

“Princess Allura.” he spat her name like poison.

“Ah.” Lotor lifted his hands from the keyboard, dismissing the display and leaning over the arm of his chair into Lance’s space. “They thought to replace you with this Allura?”

“They _did_.” his voice came out thick, and Lance swallowed painfully. “Apologies, your majesty, I need to-” he turned, but stopped when Lotor caught him by the wrist.

“They were wrong.” the Emperor said, soft enough none of the other Generals would hear, which was an accomplishment with galran ears in these acoustics. “One as talented and beautiful as yourself is anything but replaceable.”

Lance’s breath caught in his throat, and Lotor stood smoothly without releasing his wrist. “Acxa, you have the conn.” he said, casual as anything, and inclined his head ever so slightly towards the door. Lance followed his Emperor out into the hall, and down to the first corner. Lotor pulled him just out of sight of the doors to the bridge, and Lance gasped softly when strong, warm arms wrapped around him. “It’s alright.” Lotor murmured, one hand lifting to card through his shaggy hair as the other pressed firmly between his shoulder blades. “It’s alright, I won’t judge you.”

Lance gasped for air, pressing his face into Lotor’s armour as his chest heaved. His eyes burnt with unshed tears, but he wouldn’t cry, he _wouldn’t_. He was one of the Emperor’s Elite, he was better than this, better than breaking down over traitors who’d decided he was worth less than some random alien.

“It’s alright.” Lotor murmured again. “It’s just us, you can tell me what you really feel now.” he pulled Lance away by the collar of his cuirass, tilting his head with the hand in his hair until their eyes met. “You can trust me, Lance.” he purred, and Lance choked on a sob.

“I hate them.” he gasped, tears welling over and trailing hot down his cheeks. “I hate them so much.”

“They hurt you.” Lotor released his grip on Lance’s hair, hand coming around to cup his cheek instead. “But it was for the best, wasn’t it?” his voice sank into Lance’s bones, buzzing in harmony with how everything around him was swirling out of focus save Lotor’s beautiful, unfathomably deep eyes. “Their betrayal lead you to me, to where you have always belonged.” his free hand slid down to the small of Lance’s back, dragging him forward so he had to crane his neck to keep eye contact.

“By your side.” Lance breathed, and Lotor smiled, sharp and clear through the haze which had consumed everything else.

“Precisely.” Lotor purred, and bent to press their lips together. Lance all but melted, slumping into Lotor’s steady support as the Emperor held him tight and kissed him hard. His eyes slid closed, and the sensation of dizziness faded but the relieved weakness of his limbs remained. “I’ve got you.” Lotor murmured when he pulled away, forehead resting against Lance’s but lips just too far for Lance to stretch up and catch them in another kiss.

“Until death takes me.” Lance breathed, his eyes fluttering open. Lotor’s eyes were so close, pools of molten gold swirling around puddles of dark, deep, infinite blue. and he moaned softly as Lotor kissed him again, letting all his hurt and close-held anger fade away. The past was the past, and they were his enemies now besides. He could hate them for their crimes against the Empire, and forget that they were the ones who’d driven him here, to Lotor’s arms.

“Mine.” Lotor whispered breathlessly, diving back into their kiss as soon as he’d uttered the word.

“Forever.” Lance agreed, pushing all thoughts of Voltron aside. This was where he belonged.


	17. Chapter 17

After that first kiss, things changed. It started with casual touches, a hand in his hair to accompany praise or fingers trailed gently along his cheek when Lance went out with one of the other Generals on a mission. The others took note, of course, teasing him during training and downtime, but in their stolen moments together Lotor assured him they meant nothing by it. They were jealous, nothing more. After all, as Emperor he could hardly share his bed with just anyone.

And share his bed Lance certainly did. Lotor was as forceful in that as he was in their kisses, but gentle too, when needed, making sure Lance was thoroughly fingered open before penetrating him properly. Almost every night they were both aboard the ship, Lance found himself summoned to the Emperor’s quarters, only slightly larger than his own and opulent in subtle ways, like silky sheets he was all too happy to let Lotor throw him down onto and clearly custom restraints built into the headboard.

He’d been hesitant of those cuffs at first, a muffled fear clawing at his throat as he felt Narti’s magic buzzing in his head to hold back memories she helped him bury, but when Lotor met his eyes and asked Lance to indulge him with his voice so low and honey-sweet... Lance forgot why he’d been afraid. That was how it seemed to go most every time Lotor wanted to try something new, if he thought about it, but that was alright; even if Lance didn’t share most of his emperor’s kinks, he could indulge them. Lotor always promised it would feel good, and when it didn’t the quintessence-based salve he used after the fact just about made up for it.

Time passed quickly, days blurring together in the sunless void of space, and when Lotor called him to the cargo hangar for an anniversary present he had to wrack his brain on the way down to recall how long it had been since their first kiss. A month? A month seemed about right. Maybe he’d show up at Lotor’s door tonight in fancy underwear or something. Sex was a pretty poor excuse for a gift, doubly so since he already let Lotor do whatever he liked and thus couldn’t offer anything special, but it was better than nothing at all.

The hangar doors opened at a touch of his gloved hand, the chips in the fabric of his bodysuit giving off a signal that overrode his lack of galra dna, and he gave his emperor a smile as he walked into the room. “I wish I’d known you wanted to celebrate our anniversary, I would’ve gotten you something nice.”

“I prefer giving gifts to receiving them.” Lotor deferred with an easy smile. “But regardless, what do you think?” he gestured into the hangar, and Lance directed his gaze to the large item taking up most of the floor space. His heart fairly stopped in his chest, breath catching in his lungs as he took in the sight before him. It was curled on the floor, rather than sitting up, which was the only reason he could think of for why he hadn’t noticed before.

“No way.” he breathed, his feet carrying him forward as one of his hands lifted, fingers reaching out to touch the smooth, shiny paint.

“You think so little of me?” Lotor asked, and Lance shook his head quickly.

“Never, Your Majesty. It’s just, I can’t believe this is real.” he trailed his hand along the heavy metal tail, over the wickedly curved claws, and came to a stop with his palm flat on the giant ship’s muzzle. “Hello.” he said softly, stroking his thumb over the gleaming purple-grey nose which so closely matched the colour of his bodysuit. The metal vibrated under his hand, and he gasped as purple eyes came alight, trained undeniably on him. The vibration increased until it was a rumble he could feel in his bones, accompanied by a deep sound he couldn’t describe. It felt like gravity, like he was being drawn into her eyes much like he so often found himself drawn into Lotor’s. Only, in her he wasn’t drowning, he was drifting, untethered in endless luminescent purple as her light built and built into something he couldn’t bear to look at but couldn’t look away from.

“I knew it would wake for you.” Lotor murmured, and the warm arms around his torso felt distant, secondary.

“She.” Lance said, and his voice felt not quite his own. “Her name is-” the heaviness behind his heart pulsed, weighing down his limbs with something he couldn’t define, something that felt like the heart of a black hole and the core of a sun and the rotation of the universe all at once. “Midnight.” the word came from his lips unbidden, and the weight lifted from his body and mind. He became aware of Lotor pressed against his back, and dialed up the filter on his helmet with a grimace. She was too bright to look at under his normal settings, and he dreaded what it would feel like to see her without a filter at all. 

“She is yours, Lance. ” Lotor purred, splaying one of his hands over Lance’s heart. “The head and heart of a new Voltron, one strong enough to defeat those who would never have let you reach your true potential.”

Lance tensed at the reminder of his ex-team, but only briefly. If this ship was the head, then... “Where are the rest?” he asked, tilting his head up to look at Lotor. With the filters set so high, Lotor looked strange. How long had it been since Lance saw someone who wasn’t lit from within by their personal quintessence? Too long, that was for sure.

“Under construction.” Lotor rubbed at his chest. “I had Midnight completed first for you, so that you can oversee the defense of the factory station.” his hand drifted higher, fingers curling along the underside of Lance’s chin. “There is no other who I would trust with such a responsibility, Lance.”

“Aww.” Lance dismissed the lower half of his mask so Lotor could see his smile. “Sap.”

“I am being sincere.” Lotor said, a small furrow appearing between his brows. “I would not have chosen you for this mission if I did not have utmost confidence in your skills.”

“Thank you, Lotor.” Lance smiled wider. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know.” Lotor’s lips quirked in a small smirk, and he bent his head to press a light kiss to the edge of Lance’s lips. “Would you like to take her for a test flight?”

“Would you like to help me break in the pilot’s seat?” Lance fired back, and immediately tensed as Lotor’s claws pressed against the side of his jaw. Right, no flirting with the Emperor in public, he didn’t like that. “Sorry, Emperor Lotor.” he said quickly, lowering his head and fixing his eyes on the massive ship in front of them. “I spoke without thinking.”

“Learn your Beast’s controls, and report back to me on the bridge in one varga.” Lotor said, stepping away.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Lance saluted, and only when the door closed behind Lotor’s retreating footsteps did he exhale. Stepping back, he looked up at Midnight and re-sealed the lower half of his mask over a smile. “C’mon, girl. Let’s get you out of this hangar.” a pressure swept through his body, and it took a moment for him to realize that it was agreement. Midnight twisted, not sitting up but moving her head so she could open her jaw to reveal an entry ramp leading to an airlock.

“Y’know, you don’t really look like a lion.” Lance said as he approached her mouth. “More like...” he wracked his brain for an example, and chuckled when one popped into his head. “Like that one Egyptian god, with the dog head?” the mental image came to him unbidden, and he clicked his fingers. “Osiris! That one. Jackal head, god of death or something. Black Jackal doesn’t sound as cool as Midnight, though.”

Midnight sent another pulse of agreement through him as he scaled the ladder to her upper level, and he was briefly surprised to find the hallway it let out in only stretched in one direction. There was no back area to hold a speeder. “Well, guess you gotta sacrifice something.” he muttered. The pilot’s seat wasn’t mounted on a track, but it did swivel to face him as he approached. “Alright, then.” he sat down, and the seat spun on its own so the dash was laid out in front of him. It looked, fittingly enough, like a hybrid of standard galran controls and the displays in the Lions. “Let’s see what you can do.”

The joysticks all but leapt into his hands, gravity pulsing weaker and stronger up his arms. Excitement, he realized as he urged Midnight to her feet. His Jackal was excited, eager to be out of this cramped hangar and surrounded by the cool embrace of the void. The code to open the hangar doors was simple, and Midnight lunged for the opening as soon as it was wide enough. Lance laughed, sending the code for them to close up with a flick of his fingers, and curled his hands tight around the joysticks. “First, _speed_.” he jammed the controls forward, and Midnight let out a howl that he was sure was at least half in his head.

Lance threw his head back, howling along, and pulled Midnight into a tight loop-de-loop followed by a few corkscrews. They were already nearing Red’s top speed, and not a single armour stress warning was popping up. Instead, one of the control panels on the dash was blinking and requesting coordinates for- “You’re _slipstream capable_!?” he exclaimed, and Midnight pulsed a happy ebb of gravity in his head and upper chest. “In that case,” he pulled back on the controls, bringing them into a sharp U-turn and engaging reverse thrusters to slow them to a halt. “You’re at least half again as fast as Red.” he grinned, and reached out to run his hand along the edge of the dashboard. “And twice as agile, given those stunts we just did.”

Midnight pulsed happiness through him again, and Lance relaxed back into his seat with a slow grin. “Alright, now let’s find something to shoot at. Up next is a weapons test.”


	18. Chapter 18

When he walked onto the bridge of Lotor’s ship a varga later, Lance’s heart was still racing. Midnight was better than Red, better than Blue, better than any of the Lions of Voltron who’d preceded her. His head felt immeasurably _better_ now that her weight was settled in the back of his mind, her presence somehow more real than the artificial gravity holding his feet to the floor.

“I take it you have a report ready for me?” Lotor drawled, and Lance realized they were alone on the bridge save for a pair of robot sentries keeping watch over the ship’s controls. A second later he remembered the other Generals were likely at dinner now, and put it out of mind to focus on Lotor.

“She’s perfect.” Lance grinned. “She’s faster and more agile than the best of Voltron’s Lions, with firepower their equal or greater. When her pack is complete and pilots have been found for all of them, Voltron will certainly fall.” he smiled wider, and Lotor returned the expression with a grin that was all teeth.

“Excellent.” he stood, and closed the distance between himself and Lance in a few long strides. “There is a sizeable list of candidates being compiled at the base where these Beasts are being constructed. I’ll make sure hand-picking the team to pilot them falls to you, once you arrive.”

Lance flashed Lotor a beaming smile, and viciously muffled the sharp pang of something uncomfortably close to loneliness, to loss. He didn’t miss his old team, he didn’t! They’d held him back, never appreciated him, sacrificed him to a fate worse than death. This team, his team, would be better. Lotor’s fingers carded through his hair, which was far overdue for a trim by now, and Lance leaned into his touch with a sigh.

“Come to my room after evening training.” Lotor murmured in his ear. “I’ve a parting gift for you.”

A thrill shot down Lance’s spine, and he nodded as Lotor pulled away. “Of course, your majesty.”

Lotor grinned, and twisted the curly end of Lance’s hair around one finger before stepping away, letting the lock slide free. “You should grow this out more.” he said, turning towards the door. Lance nodded again, though Lotor couldn’t see him, and followed the Emperor out into the hallway.

Dinner was nothing special, the food familiar by now and the Generals all eager to hear about his naming and bonding with Midnight. He wound up explaining Egyptian mythology to them during training, as well as he remembered it, and in return they told him legends from their own cultures. As it turned out, the punishment of Tantalus was one which was consistent across all species, though what it was a punishment _for_ varied greatly and the galran version included sex as one of the insatiable needs.

Once he was cleaned up, and the other Generals had retreated to their rooms or the common room at the far end of the hallway their rooms were in, he found himself hesitating in front of Lotor’s door. Some deep, ancient part of his brain insisted that if he didn’t go in, didn’t accept Lotor’s parting gift, then he wouldn’t be separated from his emperor for who-knew-how-long. He shook his head, dismissing that stupid thought, and entered Lotor’s room. The Emperor was sprawled leisurely on his bed, a book held casually open in one hand and the other resting in his lap.

“You called for me, Your Majesty?”

“That I did.” Lotor closed the book with a dramatic snap, and set it down on the mattress beside him. “Strip.”

Lance did as he was told, leaving his helmet for last. When he reached for it, however, Lotor’s raised hand stopped him. The Emperor rose from his bed and padded across the floor to gently lift Lance’s helmet himself, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss that had his half-hard dick rising further. He ached to touch, to slide his fingers over and under Lotor’s fine nightclothes and coax his emperor to readiness, but if Lotor wanted to be touched he would say so.

“You’ve done well for me, my Paladin.” Lotor murmured, his claws tracing gently over the underside of Lance’s chin. “Such skill and loyalty deserves a reward.” his other hand slid down the length of Lance’s cock, the slow stroke teasing a breathy gasp from Lance’s lips, and only when his hand was removed did Lance realize something had been left wrapped around his base. It was snug, but not uncomfortably so, even as Lotor’s fingers tracing over the sensitive skin between his legs brought his erection to full.

“So eager.” Lotor purred, and Lance felt his knees grow weak at the pitch of Lotor’s voice even as his emperor moved away. “Come here, on your knees.”

Lance didn’t even have to open his eyes to know where Lotor was sitting, so bright was the light emanating from him. He obeyed, falling to his knees with only the barest wince when his knees met cold metal, and Lotor’s hand tangled in his hair. “Such a lovely specimen.” Lotor mused, tilting Lance’s head back and side to side. “Truly, Voltron made a mistake, abandoning a jewel as beautiful as yourself.” he tugged gently on Lance’s hair, and Lance’s mouth fell open in a soft moan.

“My jewel.” Lotor murmured, tugging again, a sharper yank and louder moan. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“Mi se- My Lord.” he gasped, hands pressed flat to the floor. Lotor didn’t like it when he touched himself, but he liked it even less when Lance spoke Spanish at him.

“For how long?”

“Forever.” he panted, legs trembling with the effort of not rocking his hips.

“Good.” Lotor released his iron grip and carded his fingers through Lance’s hair. “You may touch.”

Lance’s hands all but flew to Lotor’s thighs, and the emperor let out a contented sigh as Lance felt his way inward. “Not there.” he scolded when Lance cautiously moved a hand towards his crotch. “Not with your hands.”

Lance leaned forwards, and found that Lotor had yet to so much as unzip his pants, though he was hard under the fabric. Well then, tonight was going to be a messy affair. Lance grinned, and began to mouth along the underside of Lotor’s cock as best he could through the layers of fabric. Lotor’s breath hitched slightly, his claws drawing shallow lines of blood as his fingers curled against Lance’s scalp, and Lance let out a low moan. He kneaded his fingers gently along Lotor’s thighs, tracing the lean muscles up to his hips.

Lotor wasn’t very loud in bed, barely even moaning, but as his hand curled tighter in Lance’s hair his breathing got heavier, and slowly but surely his pants dampened with more than spit. Lance’s jaw ached by the time Lotor’s iron control began to slip, his hips rocking in a gentle but insistent rhythm, and when his head was yanked back sharply he let out a soft whine. Another, longer pull forced him to bend backwards until his hands slipped from Lotor’s body completely, and he was reminded of his own neglected length as it throbbed.

He went willingly when Lotor pushed his head forward, and let out a long, muffled moan as the Emperor’s cock pressed into his mouth. Lotor barely gave him time to adjust his jaw before pushing his head down farther, thrusting into Lance’s throat. Lance swallowed, and Lotor gasped sharply above him. His hands came up to grip Lotor’s legs just above the knee, steadying himself as Lotor began to thrust roughly, fucking into his mouth with all the raw power one would expect of the Emperor of the Universe.

He moaned wantonly, and a second later his eyes flew open as something around his cock grew warm. He immediately regretted it, the brilliant burning light of Lotor’s quintessence signature searing itself into his retinas, and at his cry Lotor began thrusting even harder, forcing Lance’s head down with each one so he was made to take the whole of his emperor’s length. The girth at the base strained his jaw to accommodate, but he couldn’t exactly complain with his mouth full of cock.

Lotor came near-silently, a sharp gasp accompanied by his claws digging into Lance’s head and hips thrusting violently against his face to force himself as far as possible down Lance’s throat. Lance moaned long and low, feeling the hot liquid pour into his stomach, and moved one hand to massage at Lotor’s shaft where it bulged in his throat. The hand on the back of his head was removed none too soon, and he pulled back until the tip of Lotor’s inhuman cock rested on the back of his tongue. Both hands he moved to stroke at the rest of Lotor’s length, coaxing his orgasm out as long as it would go.

He managed to swallow probably about half of his emperor’s climax before it threatened to overflow while he took a moment to breathe, and when he pulled off he was glad of his eyes already being shut. The thick, hot fluid splattered across his face, painting his skin purple to match Lotor’s own, and he let his mouth hang open as he panted to catch whatever else might fall into it. It wasn’t as much as he’d anticipated, apparently he’d swallowed more than he thought, and when Lotor’s claws caught on the underside of his chin he lifted his head willingly.

“Such an attentive lover.” he murmured, his thumb swiping over Lance’s lower lip, smearing his come across it. “You haven’t given your own pleasure a single thought, have you?”

Lance shook his head, and Lotor chuckled. “Well, then. Time you got to appreciate my gift to you in full.” there was a soft tak of Lotor’s nail on a screen, and Lance stiffened as the warm band around the base of his cock began to _vibrate_. It stopped shortly after, and he whined despite himself.

“With this, I can be the one to make you come even when we’re far apart.” Lotor was smiling, audibly smiling. “And you will come only for me.” the ring tightened, and Lance let out a breathless gasp as he realized it for what it was. A cock ring. A vibrating cock ring. “Won’t you, Lance?” Lotor purred, scratching at the underside of Lance’s chin. “Tell me.”

“Yes.” he gasped, and Lotor tutted.

“Did I say answer?” he asked rhetorically, flicking Lance on the nose. “ _Tell_ me.”

“Lotor, no pue-” he bit down on his lip, gasping for air. Galran, he had to use Galran. “I- can’t.” he managed.

“I’ll not release it for you to come until you tell me.” Lotor said, cool as anything. Lance whined, high and unabashedly needy, slumping forward and almost resting his cheek against Lotor’s thigh before he remembered his face was filthy. “Look at me, Lance.” he commanded, and Lance lifted his head. “I said _look_.”

Lance whimpered, but opened his eyes enough for Lotor to certainly notice. His emperor’s light was blinding, almost, but he looked at him unflinching.

“Tell me, that you will come only for me.” he said, his tone low and rumbling just the right side of threatening. “Tell me that your pleasure is mine and mine alone, just like your body mind and soul.”

“Yo-”

Lotor gripped his jaw tight, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood as he dragged Lance up to kneel properly instead of sitting on his heels. “Did I ask you to babble?”

“No.” Lance gasped. The vibrator was ramping up now, shivering all thought from his head. “Lo- Lotor.” he keened, and Lotor sighed heavily. The vibrations ceased altogether, and Lance almost sobbed.

“What a disappointment.” he huffed, crossing his arms. His bare foot tapped the floor at Lance’s side, and Lance let out a soft whine. He didn’t want to be a disappointment, didn’t want to let Lotor down their last night together before he went off to guard Midnight’s pack-in-progress.

“Please.” he forced the word out, Galran sounds heavy and awkward on his tongue. “My Liege, I-” Lotor’s hand flew to his hair, and Lance cried out as he was bent backwards. “I am yours!” he said quickly. “I am yours, only yours. Please, let me make amends, let me redeem myself. I wish only to serve you.”

“Hmm.” Lotor mused, tapping his chin with one index finger. “Acceptable, I suppose.” he released Lance’s hair and sat back down, his expression masked by the brightness of his light. “But you don’t want acceptable, do you?” he reached out again, trailing the pad of one finger along the underside of Lance’s jaw. “You want to please me well enough to deserve praise, don’t you, my jewel?”

“Yes, My Lord.” Lance breathed, cock still throbbing untouched between his legs.

“And you said you only wish to serve me?”

“Of course, My Lord.”

“Then serve me.” Lotor’s smile was audibly a sharp one. “Serve me on your knees until I’ve been drunk dry, and I will release the ring for you.”

Lance’s stomach, still fairly full from dinner and Lotor’s first climax, gurgled. “Of course, My Lord.” Lance inclined his head respectfully.

“You may close your eyes, if you wish.” Lotor said, running his hand gently through Lance’s hair. “You make the most lovely faces, with your pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock.” his length twitched at that, and Lance smiled as he closed his eyes. This would be harder than anything Lotor had asked of him before, and likely messier, but he could do it.

“As my emperor commands.” he murmured, and leaned in with his mouth open. It was going to be a long night.


	19. Chapter 19

Lance checked over the list again, mentally checking off each thing he’d done so far. His duffle of personal effects was tucked under the seat next to a stocked medical kit, and all systems were functioning normally. The slipstream coordinates he’d input were valid, and everything else he could think of was either already taken care of, or delegated to somebody else who was currently working on it. All that was left for him to do now was await the signal to launch, and he’d be en route to his new assignment.

He heard the door open behind him, and kicked the floor to spin his chair around, Midnight stopping him before he could over-rotate away from his guest. “Lotor.” his eyebrows lifted under his mask. “I didn’t expect-”

“To be seen off in person?” the Emperor smiled, his light momentarily flaring brighter. “I came to give you a little- reminder.” he reached out and hooked one claw under the chin of Lance’s mask, tilting his head up easily. “You know how your reports are to be filed, during your mission?”

“Daily, and for your eyes only.” he answered dutifully.

“Good.” Lotor purred, and Lance’s chest warmed at the praise. “But wrong.”

“What?” Lance sat up slightly straighter, and Lotor smiled.

“Your reports are to be filed with me directly, Lance.” he chided. “In Midnight’s cockpit, in full uniform, over video call.”

“S- Yeah.” Lance nodded as much as he was able with Lotor’s finger still curled under his chin. “Yes.” he corrected himself quickly. “Yes, my Lord. Of course.”

“I look forward to tonight’s report.” Lotor’s smile sharpened, and Lance got the feeling he was missing something. “Sixteen and a half vargas, to the tick. _Don’t_ be late.”

“I won’t be.” he promised

“Good.” Lotor trailed his finger up from under Lance’s chin to tap his mask, and Lance dismissed the lower half. Lotor leaned in and kissed him fiercely, one hand on either arm of Midnight’s pilot seat. Lance moaned softly into the kiss, and when Lotor pulled away with a soft chuckle Lance had to force himself to be still. Lotor didn’t like it when he tried to get more kisses. “Sixteen and a half vargas, tonight.” he whispered, and straightened up to leave the cockpit.

Pulses of gravity traced up his arms, Midnight’s excitement to be out in her element a tangible thing through their bond, and Lance laughed softly as he watched Lotor stride out of view towards the hangar doors which lead back into the ship. “I think this is going to be a fun assignment.” he told his Jackal, and the buzzing rumble that shook the cockpit was as clear an agreement as any.

\---

The trip out was remarkably dull, really. Slipstream travel relied on a path clear of obstacles which could damage the ship at such high speeds, which occasionally lent itself to fancy high-speed maneuvering in order to avoid stray asteroids, but their course was well-plotted and Midnight was smart enough to evade anything thrown her way regardless. No sooner had Lance thought that than he felt a repeating flicker of gravity against his shoulders, Midnight’s amusement clear as day even as she sent him a mental image of... bubbles? Whatever it was, she didn’t have the words to describe it, but thankfully Lance didn’t have much time to think about that before they began to slow, the enveloping blur of the slipstream un-smearing into stars.

The base where the other Jackals were being constructed, as it turned out, was an orbital station. An interesting choice, considering how rare (and thus, valuable) the primary materials for the Jackals were, and how notoriously awful the defense systems of these things were. Hell, Voltron had more or less stopped attacking the damn things except as targets of opportunity just so the rest of the rebel fleet had something to do. Which, now that he thought about it as he approached, was probably at least part of why Lotor had chosen an orbital station. Nobody would think to look here, and if they did, that was what Lance was for.

He landed Midnight neatly in a large hangar, and a sudden image flashed in his mind of the large space being filled with other ships, other Jackals, deep grey where Midnight was black and patterned with Lotor’s blue-purple and orange. Her pack. _Their_ pack. Lance stood, feeling lighter than ever, and patted the back of the seat. “Just you wait, girl.” he murmured. “We’ll make sure they get built, and then-”

He paused, lips pursing in a small frown. He’d been about to say they wouldn’t be alone anymore, but that wasn’t right. He had Lotor and the other Generals, he wasn’t alone. He squeezed his eyes shut, and dragged a deep breath in through his nose. He didn’t miss them, he _didn’t_. They’d been nothing but callous, cold, so jealous of his skill they relegated him to the Lion which had no greater purpose. They’d handed him over to the druids without hesitation as soon as it was convenient, and it had been Lotor who saved him.

“Then we’ll have a pack.” he said, opening his eyes and smiling up at Midnight’s ceiling. He didn’t miss his old team, but he was certainly looking forward to having a pack. Being part of the Emperor’s clade was all well and good, but a pack of his own, hand-picked to fight at his side? He could hardly wait.

When he emerged from Midnight a soldier in officer’s armour saluted him, only relaxing when he gave them a nod of acknowledgement. “I’m here to show you to your quarters, Sir.” they said, and Lance grinned behind his mask.

“Actually.” he spoke slowly, making sure to enunciate the Galran syllables properly, and grinned a little wider when the soldier tensed. “I would like to see the ships-in-progress first.”

“Of course, Sir. Right this way, Sir.” the officer nodded sharply, gesturing towards the large door at the far end of the hangar. There turned out to be a smaller door next to that one, which scanned the officer’s hand for longer than usual before opening. More advanced biometrics than usual, then. Good, at least they were taking proper precautions.

The room on the other side was roughly twice the size of the hangar they’d just left, with bold yellow lines on the floor to denote where it was safe to walk while machinery was running. Most of the tech in here looked old, and barely any of it looked galran, the rounded edges and worn-down echoes of decorations more in line with an altean style. Lance held himself taller, shoulders tense even under the brushes of reduced gravity that tingled over them and down his chest with Midnight’s joy.

“Due to space restrictions, we can only have two ships under construction at any given time.” the officer leading the way explained. “This one here should be done in about a phoeb, give or take a movement.” he gestured at the Jackal looming over them, and Lance was struck with the disquieting sensation of looking at a skinless thing which was not meant to be skinless.

“And the other?” he asked, tilting his head slightly towards the second Jackal-in-progress.

“Two phoebs, at least. Possibly more, the material’s not been responding quite right.”

Lance nodded, and felt the near-finished Jackal’s eyes on him as he followed the officer through to another door, this one leading out into purple-lit halls. A chill ran through him at the sight, so nearly identical to the last purple halls he’d been dragged through, and he shut his eyes as he exhaled slowly. There were no druids here, Lotor would never allow one of those monsters near him. He was safe, in control, he wore their mask of his own volition. “Tell me about the candidates.” he said as the officer lead him through the halls, past doors whose labels he didn’t bother trying to read. Most of them were just numbers, anyways.

“The Emperor himself helped line them up.” the officer grinned over his shoulder. “Best of the best, loyal to a fault, and if none of them pan out there’s always the backup list.”

Lance hummed noncommittally. Loyal to a fault was only worth anything if he could earn their respect and make them loyal to _him_. Best of the best, too, could prove to be an issue. People at the top of the food chain rarely took well to being placed underneath someone, and despite Zethrid’s best efforts he’d remained lean, most of his profile’s bulk being a product of his armour. He didn’t look like much, and even his druid-styled mask wasn’t a guarantee that someone twice his size would take orders from him.

“How many on each list?”

“Two dozen on the primary list and fifty on the backup, Sir.”

Lance nodded his acknowledgement, and neither of them spoke again until the soldier stopped in front of a door like every other in the corridor. “Your quarters, Sir.”

“Thank you.” Lance pressed his hand to the operation panel, and waited for it to scan the ID chip in the palm of his flight suit. The little light at the top of the panel ticked over from red to green after a second, and the door slid open. “You’re dismissed.” he said over his shoulder, and the officer snapped a salute as the door shut between them. The room was slightly larger than his quarters on Lotor’s ship, and every piece of furniture seemed to have been scaled to match. The desk was larger, the mattress too, and in the corner three separate mannequins stood, a large sheet draped over them to protect from dust.

Lance reached for his bag, paused, then facepalmed as he realized he’d completely forgotten it under Midnight’s pilot seat. Gravity flickered around his shoulders, his Jackal laughing at him, and he mentally flipped her off. Whatever, he could grab his stuff later, when he made his nightly report to Lotor. For now, there was a datapad glowing on the desk that he should probably read, and a base to familiarise himself with.


	20. Chapter 20

“Lance.” Lotor smiled, his face projected slightly larger than life on Midnight’s screen.

“Emperor.” Lance pressed a fist to his chest and inclined his head briefly.

“I take it you’re settling in well?”

“Everything’s going quite smoothly.” he reported. “The workers are efficient, and the officer previously in command of this base is quite competent.”

“I didn’t ask for a full status report.” Lotor chided. “I asked about you.”

“Oh.” Lance looked aside, glad of the mask that hid his heating face and averted gaze. “I am well.”

“And your quarters?”

“More than adequate.” he smiled slightly. “Thank you for arranging them.”

“I’m glad they’re to your liking.” Lotor’s lips curled up at the edges, parting ever so slightly to flash the barest hint of deadly sharp teeth. “Now, your daily report?”

Lance sat up straighter in Midnight’s pilot seat. “Everything is going well so far. The base commander has been helpful, and the staff are hard at work on the remaining Jackals.”

“Good, good.” Lotor nodded absently. “What of the lists? I trust that you have read them through, of course.”

“Not both, but I’ve studied the majority of the candidates.” Lance bit the inside of his cheek for a moment, then exhaled slowly. “I can’t make a decision based on records and recommendations.” he said, looking Lotor in the eyes. “The Jackals aren’t normal ships. They have wills of their own.”

“Hmm.” Lotor’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Lance’s head spun as that hypnotic gold drew him in. “Very well, then. You have permission to arrange for the candidates to come to you.”

“Thank you, Emperor.” Lance bowed his head again, and when he looked up Lotor was smiling.

“I do so love when you call me that.” he purred, leaning in towards his holodot. “Sit back for me.”

The order was unmistakable, and Lance obeyed without question, gesturing the lower half of his mask away before resting his arms on the armrests.

“Good.” Lotor’s smile widened, and Lance’s heart fairly jumped out of his chest when the chair _shifted_ beneath him. Wide straps unfurled from the arms and just under the seat and behind his back, binding him at the elbow and just under his knees and snug around his middle. A split second later, before he could to more than jolt in surprise, something cold and unyielding snapped shut around his neck. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out, and Lotor chuckled.

“Surprised?” he asked rhetorically, the image on Midnight’s screen zooming out to show that he was seated on the edge of his bed, not at his desk. “I had Midnight made special, just for you.” he palmed over his crotch as the seat under Lance slid apart, something rising up out of the opening to press against his ass.

Lance tried to ask why, what was going on, but his throat was so tight he could barely breathe. His eyes began to water, wide behind his mask, and his whole body trembled as he fought to breathe past the iron-cold vice constricting his lungs. “If we’re to be apart for so long, I need to know that you remember you are mine.”

The pressure against his ass shifted, sliding forward until he could look down and see what was unmistakably the tip of a dildo pressed against his thigh. His breath hitched, hands gripping at the arms of his chair so tight his fingers ached, and his eyes flicked up to Lotor’s face again. “Please.” he managed to gasp out, the word breathy and half mangled. The dildo began to shift back and forth, rubbing insistently against him through his flight suit, and he gasped as the ring around the base of his cock tightened.

“Do continue.” Lotor’s voice rumbled in his bones, buzzing through his internal organs, and the ring grew painfully tight, keeping his cock from hardening. “I love it when you beg for me.”

Lance couldn’t help the small sob that escaped his throat, or how his watering eyes welled over, or the icy fear that gripped his heart when Lotor’s small smile slipped into a frown. “If this isn’t enough for you, I could always call you back.” he suggested, lips pursing in a concerned pout. “We would have to find another to pilot Midnight, but-”

“No!” the word burst from his mouth before he could stop himself, and he immediately shrank back against Midnight’s seat as Lotor raised a single pale eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“It’s-” Lance shuddered as the dildo began to thrust against him, rubbing along the seam of his flight suit. “I’m still-” he bit back a moan, arching up as much as he could while restrained so thoroughly.

“Still what?” Lotor purred, the gold of his eyes swirling as he tilted his head.

“Dressed.” Lance panted, head spinning as he was sucked deeper into Lotor’s gaze.

“Oh?” Lotor’s eyes crinkled at the edges, the change ever so slight but still noticeable. “Don’t worry about that.” he dismissed easily as the dildo sped up slightly, the friction warming Lance’s crotch and thigh. “Just beg for me, and if you’re good I’ll let you come.” he lifted a small remote in one hand, waggling it between his fingers, and Lance moaned.

“Now, tell me.” Lotor purred, leaning forwards slightly and palming himself through his own flight suit. “How badly do you want it?”

Lance’s thighs shook the the effort of not arching up, away from the dildo’s maddening pressure, and a whimpery moan left his mouth. Lotor tsk’d, and Lance wanted to look away in shame but the collar around his neck and Lotor’s piercing gaze kept him from even doing that. “I asked you a question, Lance.” Lotor chided. “Don’t make me order you to answer.”

“I- I want it.” he managed to choke out, stumbling over the Galran words. Lotor’s eyes crinkled a little more at the corners, his gaze unwavering. “Want it- in me. Please.” he strained against the bindings, and Lotor chuckled.

“Such a valiant effort.” he cooed, reaching out towards the screen, and Lance swore he felt a phantom brush of fingers against the underside of his chin. “But do you really think a simple ‘please’ is enough to earn what you want?”

Lance whimpered, cock throbbing between his legs as the pistoning dildo kept rubbing against his flight suit. “Please, my Lord.” he panted, tears welling over again and tracing hot trails down his cheeks. “I need-” the dildo abruptly shifted, pressing up against him harder, and he cried out as he was rocked up off the seat slightly.

“You’re so beautiful when you beg.” Lotor sighed, leaning back slightly. “Say my name.”

“Lotor.” Lance moaned, hips rocking with each forceful thrust of the dildo.

“Again.”

Lance obeyed, louder this time, throwing his head back as the dildo moved faster, all but bouncing him on the seat with sharp, vicious thrusts. His breaths came short, heart hammering against his ribs and every pounding beat echoed in a painful throb of his cock, held flaccid by the ring around his base but still achingly sensitive and leaking pre into his flight suit. Lotor’s low groan came from all around him, and Lance’s whole body shuddered.

“Who do you belong to?” Lotor asked, his voice low, and Lance was drowning in his emperor’s eyes, every thought hushed by a susurrus of swirling gold. There was only one answer.

“Lotor.” he moaned, hanging limp in his restraints, hips shifting in time with the dildo’s aggressive thrusts.

“What do you want?” he purred, and Lance could only moan. Galran Standard was hard enough when he was so distracted, but with Lotor’s gaze drilling into him, drowning him in blue and gold and gold and gold, he could hardly think at all.

“You.” he managed at last, as much a wanton moan as a proper word. Lotor smiled, sharp and dangerous in a way that sent tingles right down Lance’s spine, and Lance cried out as the painfully small ring suddenly expanded, letting his cock surge to full hardness. Another few sharp, rutting thrusts from the dildo were enough to send him over the edge, and he came in his flight suit with a wordless cry.

Lotor moaned softly, and when Lance’s head stopped spinning the Emperor was giving him one of those lazy little grins that seemed reserved just for him. “You were very good tonight, Lance.” Lotor murmured, picking up his holodot and focusing it back in on just his face, those golden eyes dominating the viewscreen, making it impossible to look away. “Continue this behaviour, and I just might let you come more than once in the future.” his lips quirked up on one side, a smug little smirk which was unreasonably attractive, and Lance let out a soft moan as the ring around his cock tightened again.

The restraints released all at once, the dildo pulling back into the seat to hide under the padding, and Lance forced himself to remain sitting up instead of slumping and curling in on himself. Lotor didn’t like him being unprofessional. “I won’t disappoint you, My Lord.” he managed a small smile, and Lotor’s smirk widened into a full on grin.

“I expected nothing less.” he purred. “But tomorrow, wear your new armour. Flight suit and all.”

“Of course.” Lance nodded his head once, and the viewscreen went dark. A second later the exterior video feed came back, showing the same empty hangar as before, and Lance drew his legs up to his chest. Wrapping his arms around them, he curled forward to rest his forehead on his knees. Midnight pulsed heavy concern over his back, wrapping around him like an exceptionally heavy blanket, and he sucked in a shaky breath before lifting his head to give her a weak smile.

“It’s alright.” he assured his Jackal. “It was just Lotor.” Midnight repeated the pulse of concern, and Lance shook his head. “He just misses me, is all.” he gave his Jackal another smile, this one slightly stronger than the first. “It’s alright.”

The tremors were mostly gone from his limbs, and he uncurled himself slowly, shifting out of the seat to reach underneath and grab his duffle. The heavy contents clanked against each other softly, and he settled the strap over his shoulder before getting ready to stand up. Lotor was just worried, that was all. Worried and missing him. Being strapped down wasn’t even particularly new, just a logical extension of how Lotor liked to pin him to the bed with a hand around his throat sometimes.

This was just like that, really. A bit scary at first, when sprung on him without warning, but nothing he couldn’t adjust to. He just had to be a good boyfriend, and that meant accommodating Lotor’s kinks even when he didn’t share them. Tomorrow, he’d be ready. Maybe he’d shift the lighting in Midnight’s cockpit to something a little more... he shook his head, disregarding that train of thought. He wouldn’t style his Jackal’s interior after the Lion who’d abandoned him. He’d style her after Lotor’s ship, the soft indigo lights which shone so beautifully in his emperor’s hair and made the blue of his eyes even bluer.

But he’d do that tomorrow. Right now he was tired, and sweaty, and his flight suit was very quickly starting to feel kinda gross. His legs shook as he stood, but only a little, and he barely had to lean on the wall for support as he walked back to the ladder. “See you tomorrow, Midnight.” he patted the wall as he passed through the airlock, shifting his duffle to a more comfortable position on his hip with his other hand so its contents weren’t poking him quite as much.


	21. Chapter 21

Lance deactivated his faceplate entirely, lifting his hands to rub his temples. Halfway through the A-list and the near-complete Jackal had yet to so much as eyeball any of them. It was a strange thing, having the eyes of a ship not his own follow him through the room. Midnight had assured him that the new Jackal was simply keeping an eye on him as a member of their pack, the same way she would keep an eye on his teammates in the future. They were a pack, they looked out for their own. Which, he had to admit, did sound nice when one assumed he would be able to _find_ pilots to form the rest of his team. But the finding was proving... difficult, to say the least.

Lotor had ‘suggested’ Lance interview them, but refused to do more than hint at why Lance’s opinion mattered. Something about how he’d been sure Midnight would respond to Lance? Ugh, it didn’t matter. Lance dropped his fingers from his temple, reactivating his mask so he could look himself over in the mirror. The new armour which had been hiding on one of the mannequins in his room really slimmed down his outline, making his slender limbs seem less spindly, and the fact that it and his new flight suit was solid black where the other Generals’ were a desaturated purple-grey made him look sharper, if he did say so himself. The blue and orange accents popped a bit more too, vivid but not garish. Though those also could’ve been attributed to the fact that his armour’s profile was more angular now, and he was under purple lighting instead of blue most of the time.

He squared his shoulders, and smiled grimly behind the mask. Time to go test the latest batch against the Jackal-in-progress. His door opened at a touch to the operation panel, and he strode through the halls with as much confidence as he could muster. Head up, shoulders down, firm and even steps. A small smile flickered across his face as he recalled Fernanda’s advice, when she’d been teaching him and Amalia how to get through crowds without shoving; walk like you’ve been sent to murder Captain America. It worked much better now than it had when he was twelve years old and not quite five feet tall, and he forced down the welling homesickness that threatened to sweep through him.

The sound of a scuffle drew his attention, and he paused at the intersection of two hallways to look the direction opposite of where he was heading. Two sentries were all but bodily dragging a cuffed officer between then, heading for the detention cells. “Hey.” he raised his voice slightly, turning to walk over to the sentries. “What’s this?” he gestured at the bound officer with his chin.

“What’s it look like?” the officer huffed.

“Subcommander Kyrin has been discharged, and is being brought to his cell to await transport off base.” one of the sentires answered.

“Subcommander, huh?” Lance looked the officer up and down, taking in his red armour and the unfamiliar golden insignia on the breastplate, one marred by fresh-looking claw marks. Kyrin’s scowl didn’t waver for a second, golden eyes laser-focused on Lance’s mask without the slightest sign of fear. His quintessence, when Lance dialed down the filter on his mask a bit, was a vivid fuschia. Midnight fluttered gravity up and down his spine, and he nodded once in silent agreement. “Belay that order, sentries.” he waved a hand at them. “I’ll bring him to the cells myself.”

“Acknowledged.” the sentries saluted, and Lance took Kyrin by the cuffs. Once the robots did an about face and marched off, he deactivated the restraints entirely.

“I could kill you.” Kyrin said, curling one hand up towards their chest as they rubbed their wrist. “You probably deserve it as much as my old Commander.”

“You could try.” Lance stared the officer in the eye, all but daring them to make an attempt. Kyrin looked away first, and he grinned behind his mask, dispelling the lower half of it. “Smart choice.” he knelt, and deactivated the ankle cuffs as well, picking up the inert rings and handing them to Kyrin. “Follow me.”

“Why should I?”

Lance grinned wider. “Because I’ve got a hunch, and if I’m right, then you’re going to be promoted.”

Kyrin’s eyes narrowed slightly, mouth pursing in confusion, and Lance re-activated the lower half of his mask as he turned to lead him towards the Jackal construction area. Kyrin’s footsteps followed just a few paces behind him, matching his pace, and when Lance opened the door to the little waiting room just off the construction bay he was greeted by the sound of half a dozen soldiers snapping to attention. Kyrin joined the line at a gesture, and Lance took his place in front of them. “At ease.” he said, lowering the filter on his mask just enough to glimpse their quintessence signatures. Muddied purple, every last one of them.

They stood down, and Lance looked into each of their faces for a moment, recalling their names. “Do any of you know why you have been called here today?” he asked, and received a chorus of ‘No Sir’s and head shakes. “Good, then I get to explain it to you properly.” he folded his arms behind his back, clasping his hands together. “You are here as potential pilots for the top secret Project Karistus. Emperor Lotor has tasked me with assembling a team to rival Voltron, and you have been deemed worthy candidates for the task. Any questions, before you’re tested?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one.” the largest soldier in the room raised a hand, and Lance inclined his head towards the brute in permission.

“Who’s this halfbreed?” he pointed at Kyrin, who bristled slightly and bared his teeth.

“That is Subcommander Kyrin. Any _relevant_ questions?”

Silence. He smiled behind his mask, and turned to the door which lead into the construction hangar. “Then let’s begin.” he pressed his palm to the operation panel, waited the second for it to register his authorization, then stood aside and ushered the candidates through. They filed past in single file, and he slipped through on Kyrin’s heels, speed-walking to the front of the line to lead them over to the- he almost stopped mid-stride, mouth falling open. The Jackal was _moving_ , pulling free of the scaffolding around it to crouch and open its mouth.

One of these officers was its pilot, and Lance had a feeling he knew who it was. He had to at least maintain the appearance of impartiality though, so Kyrin would be the last to test the Jackal out. He pulled himself together, glad that the full face mask had mostly covered his slip in composure, and gestured for the first officer in the line to step forward. “Commander Glic, if you could enter the ship and attempt to start its engines?”

“Of course, Sir.” the officer saluted, and walked up into the Jackal. Lance gave them five doboshes before shaking his head and pinging their armour’s built-in comms.

“It’s not you. Please exit the ship.” he hung up before they could grumble, and gestured the next officer in line forward as the first exited, head hung low. As he’d expected, no reaction from the first six. He held his breath as Kyrin approached the Jackal, just a little, his gaze remaining laser-focused on the ship’s dull eyes once the Subcommander vanished through the airlock. It had to be him, it had to, he could _feel it_. The Jackal’s eyes powered on all at once, a flash of purple light that had the other officers flinching away, and Lance grinned behind his mask as Midnight patched him through to the newly activated ship’s comms. “Congratulations, Kyrin.” he tilted his head back as the Jackal sat up primly. “You’re a Jackal pilot.”


	22. Chapter 22

Lance sat back as the last of the rejected candidates left, striking his name from the list of potential pilots for the next Jackal. Now that the exit interviews were finally over with, he could get on with the interesting part of today. Getting to know this Kyrin character, so he’d have something concrete to tell Lotor in tonight’s report. Maybe this would even earn him a deactivation of the ring long enough to come more than once. An unpleasant pinch at the base of his cock forced his attention back to the moment, and he shook his head. Kyrin now, Lotor later. Fantasizing was pointless with the ring on, anyways.

The door slid open, and he deactivated the lower half of his mask to smile at Kyrin as he walked in. “How does it feel?” he asked as the officer sat down across from him.

“Strange.” Kyrin frowned, pressing a hand to his chest.

“How so?” Lance leaned forward slightly, head tilting just a bit to the side. “Can you describe it?”

“It’s like, there’s something behind my lungs putting sparks in my blood.” Kyrin’s claws curled against their breastplate. “I can hear them, there’s this buzz in my head and it’s....” he shook his head, and Lance smiled as he sat back in his seat.

“It’s like a limb you never knew you were missing.” he said, gravity lightening throughout his chest with Midnight’s surge of affection. Kyrin nodded, and Lance pressed a hand to his chest. “For me, I feel Midnight’s presence as gravity. Like a little black hole, just behind my heart.”

“Midnight?”

“My Jackal.”

Kyrin’s expression only got more confused, and Lance chuckled. “The ships look like animals from my homeworld, called jackals.”

“Ah.” Kyrin nodded.

“I mean, the real things are a lot smaller of course.” he chuckled, imagining a flesh and blood jackal the size of Midnight or one of the in-progress ships.

“Of course.” Kyrin chuckled awkwardly.

“So.” Lance folded his hands together. “You never did say what you got discharged for.”

“Oh.” the soldier looked away, purple cheeks darkening.

“Embarrassed?” Lance raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t seemed the shy type, when those sentries were dragging him towards the holding cells.

“A little.” Kyrin admitted. “I was sloppy.”

“And you were discharged for that?” Lance frowned. “Seems a bit harsh.”

“I mean, getting caught bloody-handed spacing a Commander’s corpse does tend to do that.” Kyrin chuckled. Lance’s eyebrows shot up, and he was glad of the mask hiding half his face because _what_.

“Okay.” he said slowly, forcing his tone to remain neutral. “And why were you spacing a Commander?”

“He was a coward.” he answered immediately, the response too fast to be anything but practiced. “We should’ve fought to the last, but he ordered a retreat.”

“So you killed him.”

“It was a more honourable end than he deserved.” Kyrin snorted.

Well, then. That was... certainly a development. Lance fought to keep his face neutral as he considered what this might mean. Evidently, Kyrin was unstable, and had no problem with disrespecting his superiors if he disagreed with their call. Potentially a massive problem, but the Jackal had already made its decision. He was just the poor sod who had to live with it.

“So, Kyrin, what weapons do you favour?” he scanned up and down their armour, and found no evident places where anything would attach.

“My fists, mostly.” Kyrin shrugged. “Claws and teeth too, if the fight gets dirty.”

“Interesting.” Lance looked down at his datapad, and checked Kyrin’s file. The listed combat proficiencies scanned like nonsense, but now he’d be willing to bet that each of them was a different school of martial combat. Most of them had a high rating, too. “Your file says you’re fluent in six different styles of combat?”

“Seven now, actually.” Kyrin flashed a grin. “I earned my mastery in traditional guddan boxing just last movement.”

“I’ll have to be sure to watch you train, sometime.” Lance flicked a finger against the screen to scroll rapidly down the page, scanning at section headers until one caught his eye. “Tell me about your-” he froze, mind blanking on the correct word in Galran for a solid two seconds before he scrolled back up to read it off the datapad. “Relatives.”

“I don’t have many to speak of.” Kyrin’s gaze met his briefly, then dropped to the desk between them. “My pack was a larger one, thirty strong as a litter, but their thirst for glory outstripped their skills. I’m one of maybe three left.”

Lance winced. “I’m so sorry.” he said softly, reaching out to lay a hand on Kyrin’s forearm. If he had to outlive all but one of his own siblings... well, he’d rather not.

“What for?” Kyrin frowned at him. “Their deaths were no fault of poor fate or circumstance, they brought their ends upon themselves.”

Ah, right. Sometimes he forgot just how different galran culture was from any human culture. “Nothing.” he removed his hand from Kyrin’s armour, waving it dismissively. “My homeworld has different expectations for grief, is all.” the galra nodded, and Lance looked back at the datapad as he scrolled through the small profile previews, each marked with an X through the picture. “So, what about clade?”

Kyrin made a noncommittal sound, and Lance glanced up to catch him shrugging. “Never really clicked with anyone outside my pack.”

“What about friends?”

Another shrug. “My coworkers are alright, I guess. Were alright?”

“Were.” Lance nodded, locking the datapad’s screen. This was plenty of information to give Lotor tonight, and if his Emperor was pleased perhaps he’d be able to ask for guidance. “I’ve already put through the order to reverse your discharge, and have you transferred to my unit.” he stood, and held out a hand to the soldier. “Welcome to the team, Commander Kyrin.”

Kyrin grinned, and rose to his feet as he gripped Lance’s hand firmly. “I look forward to serving under you, Sir.” he turned to leave, and Lance almost let him.

“Wait.” he said as Kyrin opened the door, and the soldier turned to face him. “One last question.”

“What is it?”

“Your Jackal. What’s its name?”

“Her name is Sked.” Kyrin’s reply was immediate, almost defensive, and Lance grinned behind his mask as the galra blinked, seemingly confused by his own reaction.

“When she’s completed, I look forward to flying with the both of you.” he inclined his head slightly, and Kyrin beamed before heading out the door.

\---

“And you thought detail important why?” Lotor drawled, looking very much nonplussed. Lance shrank back in his seat, glancing down at his hands briefly before meeting Lotor’s eyes again.

“Proof that he’s a true match?” he offered hesitantly, and Lotor scoffed.

“With your next recruit, do not waste my time with such trivial details.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Lance lifted a hand to his chest and bowed slightly. Lotor’s lips twitched in the ghost of a smile as he straightened up, and Lance steeled himself for the potential backlash of his next sentence. “Now that you’ve been briefed on Kyrin’s status, I would like to request your aid.” he spoke carefully, formally, reciting the words he’d practiced before starting this call. Lotor raised an eyebrow, and Lance relaxed slightly as the Emperor gestured for him to continue. “As Kyrin is my first recruit, and somewhat volatile, I would like to ask you how best to earn his loyalty.”

“Oh?” Lotor smiled properly, leaning forwards. “You know how I earned your loyalty, Lance.” he purred, and the seat back split to let the now-familiar collar close snug around Lance’s neck. “And you and I were once enemies. Why not simply imitate my methods on this new Paladin of yours?”

The word Paladin sent ice trickling down Lance’s spine, and he mentally shook himself. “I would never.” he said as clearly as he could. “I am yours, and yours alone.”

Lotor’s smile widened. “Good.” he reached out and moved the holodot closer to his face, until Midnight’s whole viewscreen was purple and white and gold, gold, gold. “Lance, I hereby give you permission to ensure the loyalty of your current and future Paladins by whatever means necessary. The only restriction, is that you come for me and me alone.”

Lance suppressed a shudder, instead smiling at his emperor as the rest of the restraints clicked out of hiding, binding him in place as the fabric of his suit shifted at a command from Lotor’s remote. The fabric parted over his ass, baring his flimsy briefs to the mercy of the massive dildo rising up from within the base of his pilot’s seat. The ring around his cock was already growing uncomfortable, and it spiked into pain as the fat, wet head of the dildo pressed insistently against his ass.

“I think you’ve earned a reward tonight, Lance.” Lotor smiled, and Lance felt the fragile seam at the back of his briefs give way. “How does a rough, fast fuck sound?”

Lance’s stomach did flips at the thought of that dildo going in him without showily preparing himself first, but he smiled regardless. Lotor just missed him, that was all. Once Sked and the third Jackal were completed, he could request a day or two off to go see his emperor in person.

“Deep breath.” Lotor purred, and Lance obeyed without question. A second later the dildo shot up, forcing its way into him with barely enough lube to keep his ass from tearing, and Lance _screamed_. He choked on the sound as the pain from his cock ring reasserted itself, tears welling in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. His chest ached, throat seizing around every breath, and he sobbed with every vicious thrust from the dildo.

“Say my name.” Lotor commanded, and Lance obliged. Lotor’s name was easy; he didn’t have to think about whether to use Galran or English or Spanish, just had to throw his head back and arch with the powerful thrusts and moan his emperor’s name. His throat was raw and aching by the time the cock ring released, and Lance came with a harsh, wordless cry two thrusts later. The dildo kept moving, pounding into him relentlessly, each stroke longer than the one before. The head of the toy slipped out of his ass, and Lance tensed when it stilled under him, his eyes locked with Lotor’s.

“Mine.” Lotor whispered, the breathy sound seeming to echo as it filled Midnight’s cockpit, pressing in on Lance from all directions. “My beautiful little Paladin.” Lotor reached out, and Lance shuddered at the phantom sensation of fingers on his cheek. Were he here, Lotor would trace his claws under the bottom of Lance’s mask, would bid him to remove it so Lotor could see his eyes.

“All yours.” Lance managed in Galran, giving Lotor a small smile.

“I’ll send you an expert to help ensure Kyrin’s loyalty.” Lotor sat up, the holodot moving away from his face. “And when you are returned to my side, your fidelity will not be forgotten.” Lotor’s voice dropped to a purr that had shivers crawling over Lance’s skin, and he couldn’t suppress a shiver. “Eager, are we?” Lotor chuckled, and Lance nodded as the vibration sank into his bones, the cock ring pinching slightly as his member started to perk up again. “Well, we both need our rest.” Lotor smiled, the warm little one that he seemed to save for Lance and Lance alone, and Lance’s stomach did a flip.

“I’ll see you again at sixteen and a half vargas tomorrow night.”

“On the tick.” Lance nodded as well as he could with the stiff collar still pinning his neck to the back of the seat, and Midnight’s viewscreen returned to showing the hangar outside as Lotor hung up. A second later the restraints released, and Lance curled forwards with a moan as his suit resealed itself. Nights like this, he missed Lotor most. Sure, back on the Emperor’s ship they didn’t share a room, but at least he could steal a minute or few curled up next to Lotor in the afterglow. At least when Lotor pushed him to the point of screaming pain and tears with his own cock and claws and viciously sharp teeth he had a quintessence salve to apply afterwards.

Without his Emperor, he had to either suffer the injuries overnight or take his next dose of booster early and sacrifice the precious little sleep he could’ve gotten. Perhaps, once he was granted a leave long enough to return to Lotor’s side, he could ask to bring the salve with when he left again. But that was something to consider in the future. Right now, he had a room to limp back to, and a decision to make regarding tonight’s potential sleep.


	23. Chapter 23

Lance tensed and relaxed his fingers, squeezing and releasing his wrists repeatedly as he watched the little ship come in. The lack of Lotor’s colours or personal crest on its hull meant he wasn’t getting Narti, which was unfortunate but not particularly unexpected. Her forte was mind control, not anything to do with loyalty. The rear hatch opened, and Lance went stone still, fingers tightening around his wrist so hard he swore his armour creaked. The hood was down, mask in hand instead of on their face, but still their profession was unmistakable.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, pulse racing faster than he’d ever felt it before as he swallowed hard. Lotor wouldn’t’ve- he wouldn’t- Lance gasped for air, Zethrid’s unrelenting training the only thing which kept him from staggering back a step when his knees went weak. Gravity pulsed heavy in his lower chest, and he latched onto Midnight’s presence to ground himself.

Lotor was trusting him to keep it together in front of this loyalty expert, despite the fact that they were a druid. He could do that, he could keep cool. He could barely remember the last time he’d seen a druid, consciously at least, but he was certain that this was different. He was in control here, he could fight back if he had to. Midnight’s presence was heavy in his mind, concern settling heavy under his lungs. The druid came to a stop in front of him, and gave a quick salute.

“Orshan reporting in, Sir.” they said, smiling brightly. Lance blinked, glad of the mask hiding his face because he was certain he didn’t look anywhere near as composed as he should’ve.

“You’re a druid.” he said flatly, and they looked down at their robe, open in the front to reveal light body armour underneath.

“An apprentice.” Orshan gave a little chuckle that sounded almost nervous, and Lance managed to force himself to relax slightly. If they were a trainee, he could definitely overpower them. “It’s an honour to be assigned to you, Sir.”

“Assigned to me?” Lance’s heartbeat shot up again.

“Yes. Emperor Lotor himself requested that I relocate to your station to aid you with your current recruit, and all future ones.”

Oh. Okay, that- Lance bit back a chuckle, feeling more than a little stupid. She’d been assigned to him as a subordinate, not as a keeper. Lotor trusted him more than that, and he’d promised besides. The druids would never have him again. “Excellent.” he pulled his mouth into a smile under his mask. “I’ll introduce you to Kyrin, then.” he turned, and gestured for the druid to follow him. It wasn’t far to the construction hangar, where Kyrin had taken to spending his downtime, but it was far enough for Lance to learn a few things about his new druid apprentice.

They walked softly, but not silently. They kept perfect pace with him, not falling behind or edging closer. They muttered to themself, a soft susurration in a language Lance wasn’t entirely sure was Galran. Most notably, though, they didn’t properly don their robes or mask until Lance paused outside the door to the hangar. Gravity fluttered against his spine, Midnight urging him on, but he waited until Orshan’s mask was in place before pressing his hand to the operation panel.

The scanner whirred softly, reading both his biometrics and the chip in the palm of his flight suit, and after a long second the door slid open. It was loud today, some heavy work being done on the less complete Jackal, and he noted Orshan’s subtle flinch at the wall of noise. “You get used to it.” he said as he lead them into the room. From here, Sked was on the far end, and odds were good he’d find Kyrin with his Jackal. Personally, Lance thought it was a very good sign that Kyrin was putting in the effort to bond with his Jackal. He also thought it was kinda cute, but that opinion was a very private one.

“He’s huge.” Orshan breathed, craning their neck to look up at the Jackal as they passed it.

“Yeah, it-” Lance stopped, pivoting on his heel to point at them. “What did you just say?”

“That, he’s huge?” Orshan’s hands came up in front of them, fingers curling in the hems of their sleeves. Lance opened his mouth to ask why they’d gone with He, but his question was cut off by a shout from the scaffolding.

“Look out!”

His head snapped up, and he grabbed Orshan by the wrist to tug them with as he started running. The Jackal made an ugly metallic screech as it tried to follow, the shrill sound nearly drowning out the clatter of collapsing scaffolding and screams of the workers who’d been on it. The floor shook under his feet, and Lance reached for his bond. Midnight’s answering roar shook the air itself, and he stumbled under the sudden increase in gravity but Orshan fell, their hand pulling free of his.

The Jackal also fell, collapsing to the floor, and Orshan squeaked as they pulled their feet away from the front edge of its jaw. Midnight was laughing again, he could feel the gravity flickering around his shoulders, and he mentally flipped off his Jackal as he helped Orshan to their feet. “Are you hurt?” he asked, and they shook their head. “Good, because I’m sure not all of these workers were so lucky.” he started towards the pile of collapsed scaffolding, and pinged Kyrin’s personal comms.

The response was immediate, and he smiled momentarily as he hurried towards the mess of poles and platforms and groaning galra. Kyrin was there seconds later, and the two of them set to work. Thankfully the workers who’d been making final touch-ups on Sked joined them not long after, and it only took maybe an hour to get everyone free and the materials roughly stacked up again. Orshan, he learned, was rather weak for a galra, and opted out of shifting the collapsed materials early on to coordinate teams of sentries in carrying the wounded to Medical.

Only once the last of the workers had gone did Lance allow himself to sag, dismissing the lower half of his mask as he leaned against one of the few bits of scaffolding which hadn’t been knocked over. “Well, that was eventful.” he said dryly, drawing chuckles from his subordinates.

“I didn’t know you were already looking for the next round of pilot candidates.” Kyrin remarked, sitting down on what looked like a bit of the Jackal’s plating which had come loose.

“I wasn’t.” Lance looked over at Orshan, who’d chosen to sit on the floor leaning against the Jackal’s tail. “Lotor sent them to help ensure your loyalty.”

“Huh.” Kyrin looked over at Orshan, a look of consideration on his face. “Well, chosen or not, xie definitely needs to be put through basic, if nothing else.”

“And how long does that take?”

“A bit over two phoebs, give or take.” Kyrin lifted a hand and tilted it side to side slightly.

“Do you think you’d be able to handle training xir?” Lance asked, already planning how he’d pitch the idea to Lotor. A chill ran through him as he realized he’d have to tell Lotor about this incident in tonight’s report, but he pushed that aside. Lotor would be pleased that he’d found his next Jackal pilot with enough time to spare that xie could get trained and made field-ready before the Jackal in question was finished, but the rest... ugh, he wasn’t looking forward to his report tonight. Sometimes when he was disappointed, Lotor forgot to deactivate the ring, and Lance had a feeling tonight was going to be one of those nights.

“Probably. Druids are supposed to be clever, xie’ll pick it up quick enough. The real challenge will be making sure xie makes the physical benchmarks.”

“Make it happen.” Lance pulled himself up tall again, materialising the lower half of his mask. “I’ll go tell xir that the plan’s changing.” he’d have to make sure xir assigned room got shuffled too. Moving Kyrin into the suite next to his had been a bit of a fight with the administrative system, but placing a druid on Kyrin’s other side shouldn’t be half as hard. Then there was armour to think of, and team bonding stuff, and it took an unreasonable amount of willpower not to hang his head in his hands and groan. He would’ve had to do all this eventually, he’d just kinda thought he would have more time to prepare.

“Orshan.” he said as he came to a stop in front of xir, holding out a hand to help the druid-in-training to xir feet. “Welcome to the team.”

“The team?” xie frowned, and Lance gestured at the Jackal sprawled on the floor.

“He reacted to you more strongly than mine or Kyrin’s Jackals reacted to us. I’d say it’s safe to assume you’re his Pilot.” Lance explained slowly. Orshan’s eyes widened, and xie looked from Lance to the Jackal and back.

“I’ve never touched a ship’s controls in my life.” 

“Which is why, starting tomorrow, Kyrin will be training you. Basic military training, and also pilot training. The Jackal-”

“Omoz.” xie interrupted.

“Omoz will help you learn how to fly him, once he’s done. I guarantee it.”

Orshan opened xir mouth, then shut it slowly. “He will.” she nodded in agreement. “But I’ll still have to perform the duties I was sent here for.”

“I’ll schedule a meeting tomorrow for all three of us.” Lance promised. “But after this, I think we could all use some time to unwind.”

Orshan looked at him, and something about the set of her face sent a chill through his body. It dissipated a moment later when she smiled, and he relaxed slightly. “I look forward to serving under you, General.” Orshan gave a sloppy salute, and Lance chuckled.

“And I look forward to seeing what an expert in your field can do.”


	24. Chapter 24

As he’d predicted, Lotor was not pleased by the news that one of the Jackals had nearly destroyed itself, or the fact that a number of workers had been hurt in the process. Personally, Lance was just thankful nobody had died, but not even the assurance that Orshan would be trained and ready by the time xir Jackal was completed was enough to soothe his Emperor’s foul mood. He’d been right about Lotor’s reaction, too, but that fact didn’t bring him much comfort as he limped back to his room with the cock ring set painfully tight and unsatisfied lust thick in his blood. He couldn’t complain, though. He’d brought this on himself, letting all those people get hurt and causing so much damage to a priceless ship. This was his fair and just punishment.

Between the pain in his crotch and unsatisfied desire in his veins, sleep was a pipe dream for the night, so instead he sat up with his datapad and tried to focus on work. Orshan’s file, now available to him in full, specified xir areas of study and experiments to date. It was interesting stuff, if slightly unnerving. He was glad xie’d not been involved in his sway to Lotor’s side. Having someone other than Narti in his head, twisting his memories... just the thought had his stomach churning uncomfortably. He glanced over at the three mannequins holding his various armours, and nodded to himself.

Voltron deserved his wrath, and once his team and their Jackals were complete he would visit their just punishment upon them. Willfully giving one of their own over to the enemy, to the _druids_ , warranted every last thing he could think of to do to them. And he could think of plenty. The druids, the arena, perhaps he’d even let Orshan use one as a test subject for xir experiments. Releasing them back to the others afterward, broken in mind and spirit, would be an appropriate punishment. They’d gotten rid of him because they thought him weak, but even Shiro hadn’t come out of the Empire’s clutches as strong as he was now. Any of the others, they would simply shatter.

Oh, and wasn’t that a delightful mental image, seeing those who’d scorned him fail where he’d succeeded. Maybe he’d take pity, depending on who it was. He could pick them up, save them as Lotor had saved him, rebuild them into a member of his team and let Voltron see how pathetic they were as two of their own crushed them underfoot.

A sharp sound from his clock startled Lance back to reality, and he chuckled to himself as he realized he’d just daydreamed away the last few vargas of the station’s night cycle. He fetched his high-tech space syringe and bottle of booster, and sighed as the quintessence hit his bloodstream. Last night’s aches and pains melted away, his exhaustion lifted like a misplaced blanket, and his mind felt sharper. He still had to schedule that meeting with his pilots to discuss Kyrin’s impending loyalty programming, right. He could whip that up, then shower, and once he was done with his skincare routine it’d be time for him to go meet Kyrin in the workout room before breakfast. He picked up his datapad, and began drafting the message to both his Pilots.

\---

“So, you both know why you’ve been called here today.” Lance leaned against the desk, arms crossed over his chest as he looked over his Pilots. Kyrin nodded, elbow rested on the helmet in his lap.

“You want to make sure I don’t space you like I did my last CO.”

“You did what?!” Orshan’s eyes widened.

“Spaced the Commander I served under before General Espinosa picked me up to be a Jackal Pilot. I thought you druids were supposed to be smart.” Kyrin grinned, and Lance rolled his eyes.

“Blunt, but true.” he said before Orshan could react further. “This is bigger than any of us, and I can’t afford to have you deciding one of my decisions is unacceptable and worth killing me over.”

Orshan’s eyebrows lifted higher on xir forehead, but xie said nothing.

“That’s fair.” Kyrin nodded. “I’ll still have free will and stuff though, right?” he looked at Orshan, who looked at Lance. Lance chuckled, and nodded minutely.

“I don’t need a mindless drone piloting my right arm, just someone I can trust to tell me off when I fuck up instead of killing me right off the bat.”

“Right arm?” Orshan asked with a frown.

“When the five Jackals are complete, they’ll be able to combine into a single robot, much like the Lions of Voltron.” Lance explained. “Sked will be the right arm, and Omoz will be the right leg.” he blinked behind his mask, then smiled slightly and mentally thanked Midnight for providing him with that information.

“And Midnight will be the head, I’m guessing.” Kyrin said dryly.

“Of course.” Lance flashed him a grin. “But first, we need the rest of the Jackals completed, and a close-knit team to pilot them. Starting with making sure you don’t go stab-happy on me, and you get proper military training.” he pointed at Kyrin and Orshan in turn, and received two nods of acknowledgement.

“When do we start?” Kyrin asked.

“Whenever Orshan is ready.” Lance turned his attention to the druid-in-training, who lifted the mask to xir face and flipped xir hood up.

“I can perform the initial procedure as soon as we get to the proper room.”

“Than by all means, lead the way.” Lance gestured to the door, and activated the lower half of his mask as he followed his Pilots out. Once the threat of Kyrin killing him was dealt with, he could focus on team bonding exercises. Between Orshan’s lack of military training and the fact that so much of what he’d first trained on was altean tech, finding exercises which would actually work was going to be difficult.

He was pulled from his musings by Orshan opening a door, and gritted his teeth as he followed his Pilots into the room. His head hurt, a dull throbbing pain near the back, just in front of where he felt the tug of Midnight’s communication. He’d been in one of these rooms before, but the more he tried to think on it the more nauseous he felt. Even with Narti’s magic holding back the details, he was sure nothing good had happened to him in any room like this. He stood by the door as Orshan strapped Kyrin into the seat in the middle of the room, xir easygoing demeanor falling away to reveal the cold, impersonal face of a druid.

Logically, he knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but Orshan had seemed so different from the handful of druids he’d encountered in the past. Now, though, with xir mask in place and robe fastened up properly, just looking at xir aggravated his headache. “How do you want him altered, General?” Orshan asked, and Lance belatedly realized xie was looking at him.

“Loyal.” he said, and Orshan’s shoulders slumped slightly. Lance had a strong suspicion xie’d rolled xir eyes behind the mask.

“I specialise in emotional manipulation, Sir.” xie said patiently. “Being loyal to someone is a decision, but it can be informed by a variety of emotions. Gratitude, admiration, fear, etc.”

“Not fear.” Lance shook his head. “I did save him from being sentenced for killing his last CO, so maybe gratitude would work?”

“That would be a combination of gratitude and fear.” Orshan said politely.

“You’re an expert, I’m sure you can make it into gratitude and some other factor.” he squared his shoulders, and momentarily wished that the quintessence booster had given him another few inches of height in addition to denser muscles and stronger bones.

“Of course, Sir.” Orshan saluted, much more neatly than xie had yesterday, and turned to Kyrin. “Now, this is just the first session.” xie warned as xie laid xir hands on Kyrin’s head. “I can lay the groundwork today, but to ensure absolute loyalty further treatment will be required, most likely with your assistance.”

“Contact me when you’re done here, and we can discuss it further.” Lance said after a moment of consideration. “I’ll be in my quarters.”

“Yes, Sir.” Orshan nodded sharply, and he turned to leave as quickly as he could without running. Sifting through training regimens to find exercises he could modify for his purposes would be tedious, but hopefully enough to keep his mind off of that room.


	25. Chapter 25

“General.” Kyrin smiled as he walked into the room, and Lance dismissed the lower half of his mask so he could smile back.

“Kyrin. Ready for today’s session?”

“Would be readier if I knew what the plan was, but yeah.” he shrugged, and Lance nodded to Orshan.

“Alright, Kyrin. Remember to keep your eyes open and trained on General Espinosa.” xie stepped up behind the chair, and xir hands began to glow as xie placed them on Kyrin’s head. “You can start whenever you like, Sir. He’ll only remember what we discussed earlier.”

Lance nodded and walked forward until he stood between Kyrin’s legs, spread wide on the seat. “Do you know why I’ve summoned you here tonight?” he asked, the practiced line flowing easily from his tongue as he leaned over Kyrin’s bound form. Kyrin shook his head, and Lance rested a hand high on the Pilot’s thigh. “When the Jackals combine, the process is something truly intimate.” he purred, inching his hand higher. Kyrin’s flight suit was already beginning to tent, a sure sign that Orshan’s magic was doing its work.

“Once all five are complete, you’ll know what it’s like for five to become one.” he continued, rubbing his thumb up Kyrin’s length. “But since we don’t yet have all five, tonight we’ll have to make do with just two.” he slid his hand further, palming Kyrin through the flight suit, and smiled at the low moan his touch dragged out of the Pilot’s mouth. “What do you say, Kyrin. Will you become one of mine?”

“Of course.” Kyrin breathed, and Lance’s grin went stiff as the ring around his cock pulsed painfully.

“Perfect.” he managed to keep his voice at least close to its seductive tone, and straddled his Pilot’s lap as he undid Kyrin’s cuirass. The galra rutted up against him as he slipped his hand under the armour to unzip the flight suit beneath, and Lance used his free hand to flick Kyrin on the nose. “Hold still.” he chided. “And no touching, either. Remember, you’re becoming one with me, not the other way ‘round.”

Kyrin nodded, the motion made slow by Orshan’s hands on his head, and Lance dismounted as he pulled the zipper down. Kyrin’s cock, when released from his briefs, looked much like Lotor’s did, though smaller in every dimension save the girth of the base. Lance went to his knees, and easily fit the head of Kyrin’s cock in his mouth, groaning as the ring around his own base sent out another pulse of pain. He wouldn’t be getting off on this, but somehow that fact made it a bit easier. Kyrin was his, or at least would be his once the programming was fully set, but he was Lotor’s, and he had the ring to prove it.

The thought drew a chuckle out of him, and Kyrin’s hips bucked up precisely once before he was spilling down Lance’s throat with a choked little noise. Lance swallowed, and pulled off with a small smirk. It hadn’t been nearly long enough for Orshan to guarantee xir magic would take, which meant it was time to ad-lib a bit. “Didn’t expect you to be such a quickshot.” he teased, stroking Kyrin’s length gently.

“Sorry, Sir.” the galra groaned, watching him with heavy lidded eyes.

“That’s alright.” Lance assured him. “Just means I get to have some more fun here.” he slid his hand past the fleshy bulge at the base of Kyrin’s cock, then down further between his legs to the damp spot on his underwear. “Shift forwards for me, would you?”

Kyrin obliged, and Lance used one hand to pull the fabric of his Pilot’s flight suit away as he leaned in. The fabric lent an odd taste to the experience, but Kyrin’s slick tasted much like his pre had earlier. Something to do with biochemicals, Lance supposed, not that it mattered very much. What mattered was how Kyrin squirmed when he pressed his tongue to just the right spot, how his thighs shook with the effort of holding still as Lance slid his free hand down the front of his Pilot’s underwear to find and tease the galra’s clit.

The time, when Kyrin’s hips jerked up into the stimulation, Lance leaned back and curled his fingers into Kyrin’s slit, spreading him open as he came messily in his flight suit. “Good?” he asked, tilting his mask towards Kyrin but lifting his eyes to Orshan. Both nodded, and he wiped his fingers on Kyrin’s thigh before standing. “I’d offer to let you use my shower, but putting dirty clothes back on is the worst.” he said, returning to the practiced script with ease. “You’ll want to go back to your own room and change.”

Kyrin nodded hazily, and when Orshan removed xir hands he slumped forwards, out cold. “Was that to your satisfaction?” xie asked, and Lance nodded.

“Quick, easy, and simple enough to maintain once it’s been set.” he watched as Orshan began to undo the restraints, and raised an eyebrow at the awkward shift of xir hips when xie leaned over. “And not at all impossible to perform for more than one, if you’re interested.”

Orshan startled, head snapping towards him, and Lance pulled up a casual grin. “I wasn’t lying about the whole intimacy in the bond thing, y’know. And you _are_ one of my pilots. It’s only fair.”

“Oh.” Orshan shifted awkwardly, bringing xir hands together in front of xirself. “I thought you and the Emperor...”

“He’s given me permission to do whatever I wish with my team, provided I follow some specific rules.” Lance waved a hand dismissively.

“But, you’re his consort, are you not?” Orshan lifted xir mask, revealing xir frown.

“Yes, and no.” Lance lifted a hand to wiggle side to side. “I’m one of his Generals, we’re...” he paused, then shook his head. “I’m not sure Galran has a word for it, but we’re his. And as we are his, you and Kyrin and your future teammates will be mine.”

“I’m not sure I understand, but alright.” Orshan nodded. “Help me get Kyrin back to his room, and I’ll see if some firsthand experience will help me understand.”

“Gladly.” Lance grinned, and moved forwards to tuck Kyrin’s limp cock back in his underwear before zipping the flight suit back up. Orshan’s loyalties couldn’t be swayed by magic, so for xir he’d have to do it the old fashioned way. At least there was an upside to the cock ring, though. He wouldn’t be able to wear himself out part the point of being able to perform for Lotor even if he did end up servicing both his pilots before his nightly report.


	26. Chapter 26

It never stopped hurting. They hadn’t expected it to, but it was still somehow a surprise when months later Lance’s absence still felt like an open wound. Even Matt and Dad’s disappearance had dulled with time, but they supposed the situation was a bit different now. They’d never believed their brother and father were dead, not really, not for more than a day or two at least. And then they’d been working to find proof, throwing themself into the search for answers, barely thinking about the hole in their life except when they needed to remind themself why they were fighting so hard.

But with Lance, well, they’d heard him die, heard his screams cut off as he drowned in burning waste-quintessence, and every time they formed Voltron without him was like charging into battle with a missing limb. Blue had accepted Allura back, but with every fight it became more and more obvious that their bond wasn’t what it once was. Voltron was falling apart, slowly but surely stumbling towards a point where the strain would be too much for Allura to bear, and the Empire wasn’t letting up.

On the contrary, according to the latest report they’d intercepted, Lotor was doing his best to make all their lives that much harder. Pidge strode onto the bridge, and flicked the data from their tablet onto a screen in the middle of Shiro and Allura’s work.

“What the-” Shiro frowned, pulling the screen closer to himself to scan over the roughly translated text.

“Lotor didn’t use the whole comet in that ship that attacked us.” they said, drawing the attention of both Voltron’s leaders. “That was just a diversion, something to keep us from wondering why he wanted so much of the ore that Voltron is made of.”

“No.” Allura breathed, eyes widening as she looked from Pidge to the purple text hovering in front of Shiro.

“He’s already finished one ship, and the second is projected to be complete in under a movement.” they confirmed. “I’ve got three more reports on here saying the same.” they lifted and waved the datapad in their hand.

“Good job catching this now, Pidge. If Lotor had managed to construct a second Voltron-”

“He hasn’t, and we won’t let him.” Allura interrupted. “Pidge, collect the other Paladins, we’re putting a stop to this.”

“Allura, we’ve already promised our aid to a completely different quadrant of space. They need our help immediately.”

“You weren’t there, Shiro.” Allura said solemnly. “The first comet ship he built punched through the castle’s defenses like they weren’t even there, all on its own. If not for Keith’s quick thinking, Voltron would have fallen in that fight.”

“Allura’s right.” Pidge agreed. “It’s bad enough Lotor’s got a second one of those ships already, but if he’s planning a whole knockoff Voltron we can’t afford to let him get any further than he already has.”

Shiro frowned, but didn’t argue any further.

“I’ll reset our course.” Allura said, striding over to the controls. “Pidge, Shiro, you get the other Paladins up here. If we’re fast, we may still be able to make it to the Breor system in time to aid them in fending off the galra.”

“On it.” Pidge saluted, and turned to hurry back into the hall. There were a finite number of places Hunk might be, this time of day, and they could get him while Shiro pulled Keith out of the training room.

\---

The castle dropped out of a wormhole just behind the moon of the planet Torohm, and Pidge barely had to nudge Green to get her out of her hangar and into the void. These past few months, even the Lions hadn’t wanted to be in the castle most of the time.

“Alright, team.” Shiro’s voice came over the comms, firm and sure as ever. “Remember, we’re just here to destroy the comet, and any ships in progress. If the station goes down, the impact with the planet could very well kick start an ice age.”

“Got it.” Pidge replied in synch with Hunk, Keith, and Allura.

“Hunk, Keith, I want you to hang back while Pidge, Allura, and I engage. We’ll draw their fire, then you two come in and destroy what needs destroying. In, out, back to the castle.”

“We already went over the plan, Shiro.” Keith huffed.

“In all fairness, we’ve fucked up simpler plans.” Hunk pointed out.

“Can we just focus on stopping Lotor?” Allura snapped, and Pidge winced.

“Orbital station coming into view now.” they announced.

“Great. Keith, Hunk, fall back until I give the word. Pidge, turn on Green’s cloaking device, see if you can’t get above them while Allura and I come in from the sides.”

“On it.” Pidge hit the button to activate the cloaking, and once it was engaged pulled up away from the planet. The station was huge, but sorta... lacey, almost. Interconnected rings set at angles to each other to form most of a shell around a spindly core. It wasn’t hard to tell where the new Voltron was being constructed, honestly. There wasn’t much in the way of places it could be hiding.

Drone-operated fighters began pouring out from various parts of the rings as Shiro and Allura approached, and Pidge was tempted to take a shot at the hangars but refrained. Green didn’t have the firepower to take them out immediately, and if the galra realized they knew about the knockoff Voltron they’d haul ass to get it out of there as quickly as possible. A hangar door opened just next to where the knockoff Voltron ships were being built, and Pidge’s breath caught in their throat as something unmistakably canine in form flew out.

It was hard to make out the thing’s exact shape, with only splashes of Lotor’s signature purple and orange breaking up its black plating, but one thing was clear. It was definitely not being piloted by a drone. Its back plating flared, silver undersides catching the light, and the dog ship thing shot forwards towards the fight.

“Allura, watch out!” they yelled, pushing Green into a dive at the knockoff black lion. Black dog? Whatever it was, it would hit Allura if they didn’t knock it off course. The cloaking fell away as they materialised Green’s jaw blade, but the knockoff peeled away at the last second and Pidge yelped as Allura dodged into their path. They deactivated the jaw blade, but the impact still jarred them in their seat.

“Keith, Hunk, we’ve got the knockoff occupied!” Shiro called, and Pidge distantly heard Keith and Hunk’s affirmative answers as they righted Green and spun to face the black knockoff.

“Alright.” Pidge jerked their head to the side, cracking their neck slightly. “Let’s show this faker what _real_ Paladins are made of.”

“Let’s.” Allura snarled, pulling Blue into position on Pidge’s right. The knockoff charged again, straight at Allura, and Pidge urged Green into another dive as Shiro knocked the smaller ship off course with Black. Green’s laser hit the knockoff dead on, followed by Blue’s ice, and Pidge had all of a second to feel smug before a flurry of lasers came from the cloud of floating particles and shards which were definitely not doing as good a job of restraining their opponent as they should’ve.

The knockoff roared, charging again as it kept up the laser barrage, and Pidge screamed back as they shot up to knock it off-course again, Shiro coming in from above at an angle to catch the knockoff in a pincer of ramming speed Lions. Somehow, though, the knockoff twisted out of the way. Pidge braced for impact, but instead of the usual gentle jolt they yelped as they were bodily thrown from their seat, the dashboard digging into their stomach and hands twisting around Green’s controls in a way they were pretty sure wasn’t healthy.

They heard Shiro’s cry of pain over the comms, and Green’s concern rattled around them like dry stalks in a field. “‘m okay.” they groaned, lifting their head from the dash. Their wrists felt strange, but not painful, so that could be dealt with later.

“What was that?” Keith asked, his voice sharp with worry.

“I don’t know!” Allura replied, then cried out in pain.

“Princess!” Pidge forced their limbs to move, shoving off of the dashboard and back into their seat. Green twisted almost without their input, and Pidge gasped at the sight of the knockoff ship biting down on Blue’s neck.

“Allura!” Black barrelled into view, slamming broadside into the knockoff, and Pidge reactivated Green’s jaw blade.

“I’m alright.” Allura said breathlessly, Blue righting herself and spinning to face the recovering canine knockoff. “They’ve some sort of gravity weapon.”

“Keith, Hunk, what’s your status?”

“Their shields won’t last much longer.” Hunk replied.

“Pidge, fighters on your six!” Keith interjected, and Green spun as Pidge twisted their bayard to vine canon position. A sweep of the green beam disabled most of the incoming drones, and they pulled up away from where Shiro and Allura were circling the knockoff.

“You’ve got more incoming, too.” they noted.

“Already on it. You keep Shiro and Allura free to handle that knockoff bastard.”

“That’s the plan.” Pidge rolled their shoulders, and Green roared as they threw themself into the fight, dodging and weaving through the swarm of drones with the jaw blade activated and tail laser flicking side to side to pick off those they couldn’t manage to hit physically.

“Got it!” Hunk’s shout pulled their attention back to the larger battle at hand, and they whirled Green around to see Yellow peeling away from the no longer shielded orbital station. “Keith, you’re up!”

“Pidge, we’ve got escape ships leaving the main area. Can you take them out?” Keith’s voice came in their ear, but before they could answer Shiro’s followed.

“Belay that. Hunk, Pidge, we need you on this knockoff.” he grunted, and Pidge let Green point them at Black and Blue’s current location. Both Lions looked bad, but Blue was significantly worse.

“On my way.” they said, Hunk’s affirmation echoing just after theirs, and shot forwards. The knockoff shot up just before their jaw blade made contact, and Shiro grunted as the weapon dug into Black’s flank.

Before they could apologize, though, Hunk whooped and they saw the knockoff go spinning away past Blue. “Didn’t see that coming, didja?” he taunted.

“Where did Lotor even find this guy?” Pidge wondered, deactivating Green’s jaw blade as they got into position on Shiro’s left.

“Good question.” Shiro said darkly. “If the Empire has pilots this skilled and hasn’t been sending them against us, we may have a problem on our hands even bigger than a knockoff Voltron.”

“Oh, shit, he’s coming back!” Hunk yelped, and Pidge twisted their bayard to fire a beam from the vine cannon just as the canine knockoff shot past them.

“Why does he keep going after Allura?” they grunted, turning the jaw blade back on as they twisted Green to chase the enemy ship.

“We’ve not been exactly subtle, in looking for a new Blue Paladin.” Allura pushed Blue into a dive, and Hunk cut in behind her to take the brunt of the knockoff’s ramming attack while Pidge and Shiro came in with blades active.

“You think the galra know Allura’s not a match anymore?” Keith asked.

“I think by now the whole universe may know.” she answered grimly.

“Regardless, we’re not going to let him get away.” Shiro said firmly. “Allura, head up, and be ready to break right on my mark. Pidge, Hunk, follow my lead.”

Pidge nodded, and deactivated the jaw blade again as Allura drew the knockoff’s attention with a blast from Blue’s ice beam and shot up. The knockoff, predictably, followed her. A second later Shiro followed the canine ship, and Pidge fell in on his right flank.

“Hunk, Pidge, ready your cannons.”

“Ready.” Hunk said as Pidge activated the vine cannon.

“Ready.” they confirmed.

“Princess, now!”

Up ahead, Blue shot off to the right, and Allura cried out in pain. The knockoff spun, open mouth pointed at her Lion, and Pidge punched Green’s controls forward for maximum speed as they fired the vine cannon with a scream. The knockoff whirled, mouth still open, and they got a glimpse of a purple-edged glow before they were slammed back into Green’s seat hard enough to make their head ring.

“Pidge!” Shiro and Hunk cried out, and their groans joined Allura’s as Green slowed to a stop, weapons deactivating as their head filled with dry, rattling concern.

“Coming in hot!” Keith’s voice cut through the haze of Shiro and Hunk struggling with their half-disabled Lions, and Pidge blinked their eyes open to see Red streak across Green’s viewscreen spewing flames at the knockoff.

“Keith, get back to the station.” Shiro snapped.

“The station’s done for.” Keith retorted, and Pidge turned Green to take a look. Sure enough, the central spindle was buckling in the middle, the hangar area thoroughly destroyed. The knockoff evidently noticed as well, because the canine ship’s ears twisted to point down instead of back and its tail drooped between its legs. Its ears quickly flicked back to their former angry set though, and it whirled on Allura as it opened its mouth for another shot from its invisible beam weapon.

“Princess, watch out!”

Blue shot forward, but the knockoff was faster, crashing into the Lion from below and rending at her armour with teeth and claws. Allura screamed, and Pidge shot forwards as Green’s systems finally rebooted. The knockoff bailed as the four of them came up around Allura, and Pidge’s heart dropped as it made a beeline for the listing station. “He wouldn’t.” they breathed.

But of course, the knockoff’s pilot was a galra of the Empire, and those bastards had no sense of fair play. The canine ship opened its mouth, and twisted as it shot off a fully visible laser directly at one of the engines.

“He’s dropping the station!” they cried.

“We’ll catch it. Form Voltron!”

“I can’t.” Allura’s voice jarred them from the reflexive maneuver to get in position, and Pidge looked over at the Blue Lion. The knockoff had really done a number on her, ripping open the cargo hold in her belly and the passage through her neck.

“Dammit.” Shiro gritted out as the knockoff headed for the other engine. “Keith, get her back to the castle. Hunk, Pidge, if we can’t stop the station from falling the least we can do is try to slow it down.”

“Got it.” Hunk said, and Pidge echoed him as they urged Green towards the falling station. Millions would die if that station hit the planet at full speed, possibly billions. They couldn’t afford to fail.


	27. Chapter 27

Keith tensed as a good chunk of the bridge’s viewscreen changed from star-speckled space to a video call. “Yes?” Allura sighed as the rectangle filled with static, the image from the other end’s camera not yet resolved. “If this is about my Paladins’ withdrawal-”

“Oh, it’s about more than that.”

Keith’s hand flew to his bayard as the rectangle finally filled in, the purple was more blue than usual but it was still unmistakably the interior of a galra battleship. Once he’d registered that they’d apparently been hailed from a galran ship somehow, he took in the caller. Purple skin, golden eyes, pure white hair pulled back from a sharp-featured face with a narrow braid just above each pointed ear. A half-galra soldier, one of Lotor’s Generals judging by the armour he wore. It had a _cape_ , so it was probably ceremonial. He wanted to look intimidating for this call? As if they’d be scared of someone on the other end of space-skype.

“Lotor, I presume.” Allura said coldly. “Why are you calling?” she gestured behind her back, and Coran nodded before stepping out of the camera’s angle and pulling up a screen to do... something. Keith couldn’t read English backwards half the time, let alone Altean.

“Oh, to thank you of course.” Lotor beamed, his voice taking on a disgustingly happy tone.

“For destroying your factory?” Pidge quipped from his left, dry and biting as ever.

“Oh, that factory was nothing.” Lotor waved a hand dismissively. “There are easily a dozen others which can pick up the slack in production.” he flashed a sharp-toothed smirk, and Keith felt himself bristling. Even if Lotor wasn’t the current Emperor, he’d want to punch the bastard’s face in just for looking so damn smug. “The planet below, though.” Lotor made a tsking sound, shaking his head. “You took a good chunk out of it, didn’t you, breaking up that station as it fell.”

“If you’ve called to gloat, I won’t tolerate it.” Allura said sharply, lifting a hand to hover by the icon which would end the call.

“Oh, that’s not the only reason I called.” Lotor’s grin this time was vicious, cruel, and sent a shiver down Keith’s spine. Nothing good could come of that smile. “I thought that you would like to meet the pilot who single-handedly defeated Voltron.”

“Aw, babe, you’re flattering me.” a voice chuckled in Galran from offscreen. “I couldn’t’ve done it without Midnight.”

“But you control the beast, do you not?” Lotor lifted one hand in a beckoning motion, and a figure clad in solid black armour stepped past the camera. The Imperial symbol glowed on his pauldrons, and where the armour didn’t cover a deep purple flight suit clung to his lean frame. A sword hung from his hip, and a rifle was slung across his back. A versatile fighter, then. It made sense, given how skilled a pilot he was. Keith privately hoped he never had to face the bastard one on one. Even if this pilot was short for a galra, that would probably be a difficult fight to win.

The galran pilot stepped in front of Lotor, and Keith pulled a face when the Emperor deactivated the lower half of the shorter galra’s face mask and leaned down to kiss him. PDA was bad enough when it was random people on the street, but in a video call with the literal ruler of the Empire they fought on a near-daily basis? He agreed with Pidge’s exaggerated gagging noise and Shiro’s quiet ‘yuck’. It was good information, though. Lotor was romantically involved with his knockoff Black Paladin, which meant the galra made a promising potential bargaining chip.

“Take off your helmet for them.” Lotor said, something in his tone setting Keith’s skin prickling.

“Of course.” The knockoff Black Paladin gave a salute, then turned to face the camera. His helmet had a faceplate not unlike the druid’s masks, and he reached up as if to remove only that before seeming to rethink it and leaning forwards to pull the whole thing off. He straightened up, and Keith felt like he’d been punched right in the solar plexus. The pilot was supposed to be a galra, was supposed to have purple skin and weird ears and pointed teeth. Not slicked-back brown hair, and tan skin, and dead blue eyes that bored right into him and stole what little breath he still had.

It was Lance. The pilot who had mauled Blue and sent the factory crashing to the planet’s surface and _kissed Lotor_ , was Lance. Hunk was crying, Keith was distantly aware of the sound as he tried to make everything add up. He was pretty sure Pidge had stopped breathing, and Shiro- Shiro was still as stone, his prosthetic arm hanging limp at his side. It couldn’t be Lance. Had to be some- some sort of druid illusion. Like how Shiro had said Zarkon’s witch made herself look like him during that fight before the portal went all screwy. That would explain why his irises were surrounded by gold instead of white, too. Oh, when he met Lotor he was going to knock the fucker’s teeth out one by bloody one.

“Even for the galra, this is cruel.” Keith snarled, hands curling into fists. Not-Lance’s expression shifted, changing from mild irritation to a burning glare, nearly a sneer. It was an expression the real Lance, the one who’d sacrificed himself a few months ago, would never have made.

“Cruel?” Lotor laughed, draping an arm and a good bit of his cape across Not-Lance’s armoured shoulders. “Do you have anything to say to that, my loyal Paladin?”

Not-Lance grinned, the expression so galran it looked wrong on his fake human face. “You want to talk about cruel, Keith?” he asked, his voice losing the deep echo of translated Galran and falling just about perfectly into what Lance had sounded like. “Your hair looks like a particularly cruel and unusual punishment.” he chuckled, and Keith felt like he’d been sucker punched again. How many times had he heard Lance laugh just like that, after cracking a joke so bad it made Hunk groan and Pidge roll their eyes?

“Or, perhaps it’s cruel iro- no, sorry, it’s not ironic at all, just fitting.” the man who looked like Lance sneered, leaning into Lotor’s touch and crossing his arms over the lower set of glowing lines on his breastplate, spinning his helmet to hold it in one hand. “After the way you hauled Blue’s carcass around today, I think it’s safe to say you’re the one who should’ve been a cargo pilot.”

Hunk made a short, pained sound, and Keith had to lock his knees to keep them from giving out under him. It- it _was_ Lance. He didn’t know how, but Lance was alive and working for the enemy and it felt like someone had just scraped out most of his internal organs and replaced them with lead.

“Lance, why-” Shiro’s voice wavered, just slightly, and Keith squared his shoulders. Lotor was still watching them, one elbow propped on the arm of his throne and thin purple lips curling up in a smug smile. He wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of watching them all crumble.

“ _Why_?” Shiro asked, taking a small step forwards. “Why are you working for him? What did he do to make you fight us like that?”

“If he gave you a ship, why didn’t you come home?” Pidge added when Shiro trailed off into pained, expectant silence. Lance’s face, so much leaner and sharper than Keith remembered, fell back into a scowl.

“Why wouldn’t I work for my emperor?” he sneered, free hand curling into a fist against his shiny black vambrace. “It’s not like you need or _want_ me there.” he spat the words like an accusation, like he meant them to hurt. “Lotor has been nothing but kind, since I _chose_ to become one of his Generals. I’m exactly where I was meant to be.”

Keith thought he saw tears glinting at the edges of Lance’s hard blue eyes, but Lance turned away from the camera too fast for him to be sure, pulling his helmet back on.

“You can go now.” Lotor said, stroking the side of Lance’s helmet in a gesture so casually intimate it made Keith’s stomach turn. “I will join you shortly.”

“Of course, Majesty.” Lance said with a steady voice. He lifted a hand to touch Lotor’s, then stepped back and gave a salute. “Vrepit Sa.”

“Vrepit Sa.” Lotor returned, and Lance stepped out of frame. Lotor turned his head, presumably watching him leave, then looked back at the screen with a smirk somehow even more smug than his earlier expression. “Oh, don’t look like that Allura.” he purred, leaning towards the camera ever so slightly. “You should’ve known better than to hand me such a wonderful specimen on a silver platter.”

Keith glanced briefly at Allura, not turning his head. Her expression was something like wrath, but intensified to the point it became indescribable. Her hands shook in fists at her sides, knuckles pale from how tightly her fingers were curled. “We won’t let you get away with this.” she said, each word laced with as much fury as Keith had ever heard from her.

“Oh, but I already have.” Lotor grinned, leaning back in his throne. “Lance is mine now, mind body and soul.” his grin turned lecherous, and Keith felt nauseous. “ _Especially_ body.” the Emperor purred, and Pidge made a disgusted sound. “And now, I must retire.” Lotor said with such blatantly fake remorse even Keith could see it plainly. “I have a lovely pilot waiting in my chambers, and after a battle like that I’d say he’s more than earned a reward.”

The last thing Keith saw before the video cut out was Lotor’s sharp-toothed grin, and the second the viewscreen was back to starry sky he collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. A reward. Especially body. He didn’t want to put two and two together but he couldn’t help it. Lance, who was so caring he would rather give up his own life than let someone else die in front of him, was doing more than just working for Lotor. He was fucking him, too. What had happened in the months since they lost him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually the first chapter I wrote, in a single 80 minute sprint late at night a few months before sign-ups opened for Supernova.


	28. Chapter 28

Lance sat on the edge of Lotor’s bed, eyes shut as he ground the heels of his palms into them. The image of the Paladins’ faces felt like it was burnt into his retinas, and something about it made his stomach churn uneasily. He groaned and fell back so he was lying on the fine sheets, eyes still covered to block out the burning light of the quintessence lines running through the walls. He didn’t want to be thinking about them right now, not when he was finally back where he truly belonged. At his Emperor’s side, in his bed, soon to be under him taking whatever he was given.

Tonight wasn’t a night for thinking. Not about his pilots or their Jackals, safely evacuated and en route to a new orbital station, not about the people who’d tried to ruin his life and instead sent him, in a roundabout way, exactly where he’d always been meant to be. He moved one hand aside, and sat up at the sight of an approaching quintessence signature as familiar as his own heartbeat. He removed his hands, and activated the upper half of his mask so he could smile at Lotor properly as the Emperor entered.

“My Liege.” he stood and saluted, and Lotor’s lips curled up in that small, fond smile he only ever gave to Lance.

“My jewel.” Lotor’s steps rang on the floor as he crossed the room, and Lance melted into his Emperor’s touch as Lotor pulled him close. He opened his mouth eagerly as Lotor bent to kiss him, and rocked into the hand that cupped his crotch. “I think, you’ve earned a proper reward.” he murmured when they parted, voice pitched just right to buzz in Lance’s bones.

Lance opened his mouth to say that being in Lotor’s arms again was reward enough, but Lotor’s claws in the fabric of his flight suit made him gasp and cut himself off before the first word. The fabric tore open with just a tug and flick of Lotor’s wrist, and his briefs underneath shredded like paper given the same treatment. His legs shook, fingers clutching desperately at the ornamentation on Lotor’s fancy armour as those elegant, clawed fingers wrapped around his cock.

“Remember, this is just for tonight.” Lotor murmured, gripping the ring around the base of Lance’s cock. It expanded in his hand, and Lance moaned wantonly as Lotor pulled it off. His cock bobbed up between them, and Lotor chuckled as he dropped the ring with a clink and lifted Lance clean off the floor. “Eager?” he asked, and Lance nodded against his emperor’s breastplate.

“Good.” Lotor purred, carrying Lance up towards the head of the bed before laying him back down on the sheets, his head centered on a plush pillow. “Now, helmet off.”

Lance whined softly, but complied. The light of the quintessence that ran through the walls was bad enough, but Lotor’s light burned like looking at the sun. He set the helmet aside, leaving his eyes closed to spare them just that little bit longer, but blinked them open when he felt something slide into place against the sides of his head, just over his ears. Something like, safety glasses? He stared up at Lotor, drinking in the soft glow which his new glasses diffused into a soft corona around the Emperor, and his face must’ve done something because Lotor gave him that soft little smile again.

“You like them, I take it.” he carded his fingers through Lance’s hair, claws scratching at his scalp and teasing through helmet-hair tangles.

“Of course.” Lance felt himself beaming, and sat up at Lotor’s gentle tug.

“Strip for me.” Lotor commanded, sitting back. Lance scooted backwards slightly, and popped the clasps on his cuirass as seductively as he could manage. Even moving slowly and sensually couldn’t drag it out forever, though, and it felt like no time at all before he was kneeling naked before his Emperor.

“Your wish is my command, My Lord.” he pressed his fist over his heart and gave a shallow bow, earning a soft chuckle.

“Well then, why don’t you prepare yourself for me?” Lotor teased, and Lance nodded eagerly as he twisted to retrieve the lube. Hiking a leg up to his chest and curling his arm around it to reach his ass was nothing, and he let his head fall back onto the pillow under it as he slid two fingers in. Getting up to three was easy, his body accustomed to accommodating much larger insertions, but he arched and moaned anyways as he worked himself open. Lotor liked it when he put on a bit of a show, after all.

His hand was pulled away as he went to add a fourth finger, and he went limp and pliant as Lotor spread his legs further. The Emperor’s cock pressed against his entrance, and Lance’s breath caught in his throat. It felt bigger than he remembered, hot and firm against him, and he moaned softly as he canted his hips up to give Lotor a better angle.

“So needy.” Lotor teased, moving one of his hands to hook a claw under Lance’s chin. “If you were galra, I bet you would be wet enough to soak the sheets by now.” he chuckled, and his hand shifted to pin Lance by the throat as he leaned in, stopping just shy of kissing range. “But you’re not, are you? You’re just a human.” Lance couldn’t help but flinch slightly, and Lotor let out another soft laugh. “But you’re so tight around my cock, no matter how eager you are, and I do so enjoy that.”

His hips snapped forwards without warning, and Lance’s scream caught in his throat where Lotor’s hand wrapped tight around it. Lotor sighed, eyes drifting shut as his muted halo of quintessence-glow brightened slightly with utter bliss. “Every time.” he murmured, his eyes sliding open and locking with Lance’s. “You missed this?”

“Yes.” Lance choked out, breathless and dizzy.

“Good.” Lotor’s smile sharpened, and Lance moaned weakly as he set a torturously slow pace. His eyes were even harder to look away from than Lance remembered, swirling gold and impossibly beautiful blue all he could focus on as darkness ate away the edges of his vision.

“You may pilot the head of New Voltron, but this is your true place.” Lotor purred, dragging another breathless moan out of Lance as his tone sank deep into his core, vibrating through his bones to send erotic shivers over his skin. “Say it.”

Lance opened his mouth, but all that came out was a near-silent wheeze. Lotor sighed, and Lance’s head spun as the pressure on his throat let up, air rushing back into his lungs. “I’m yours.” he gasped, and Lotor’s lips twitched up at the edges.

“And where is your place?”

“Here.” Lance lifted his hips, meeting Lotor’s languid thrust and drawing a small sound of pleasure from his emperor.

“Cheeky.” Lotor’s smile widened, just for a moment, just long enough to show a flash of his wickedly sharp teeth. “I should punish you for that.” he tightened his hand around Lance’s throat again, claws digging into the soft skin of his neck. It only lasted a moment though, and then his grip gentled into something like a caress. “But after your performance today, robbing Voltron of all but the most phyric of victories, I think you’ve earned some lenience.”

“Thank you.” Lance gasped, and Lotor thrust into him again with more force than before. He moaned wantonly, as loud as he could with Lotor’s hand around his throat, and was rewarded with another sharp thrust.

“Would you care to make a wager, Lance?” Lotor asked, and as far drowned as he was in the emperor’s eyes Lance could do nothing but gasp out an affirmative. “If you can last until I’ve worked myself dry in you, I’ll let you take a half day tomorrow instead of leaving first thing to rejoin your little crew-in-progress.”

“And if I can’t?” he mumbled, head spinning as he was sucked every deeper into the swirling gold of Lotor’s eyes.

“Then, you’ll be feeling what I do to you tonight for the rest of the movement.” Lotor’s smile was sharp, his teeth sharper, and Lance moaned as he bared his neck as much as possible without breaking eye contact.

“I accept.”

There was no way he was going to win this, Lotor had a will of steel and knew how to make Lance come so hard he could barely remember his own name. But just because he was bound to lose didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. He’d make the most of this sleepless night, and earn every minute of delicious ache that Lotor was promising.


	29. Chapter 29

Lance shifted in Midnight’s pilot seat, grimacing slightly as he tried to get comfortable. Lotor certainly had delivered on his promise last night, fucking Lance so thoroughly that even his daily quintessence shot hadn’t fully removed the pain. Midnight’s viewscreen flickered, a window opening to show Lotor in his room, and Lance gave Lotor a smile. “Emperor.” he saluted.

“Lance. Still feeling me, I see.” his lips curled in a self-satisfied smile.

“As you promised.”

“Excellent. How is setup coming along?”

“It’s progressing smoothly. Kyrin’s Jackal just needs a few more final tests before the mechanics will let him take it out for a test flight, and Orshan’s scaffolding is fully rigged up.”

“Excellent.” Lotor nodded absently. “And what about yourself?”

“Sore.” Lance chuckled, shifting in his seat. “Missing you already.”

“You can always come home, you know.” he offered. “Once the second ship is completed, Kyrin can take over your guard duties, and you could return to my side.”

Lance smiled, doing his best to ignore the way his stomach churned at the thought of accepting Lotor’s proposal. “I would still have to come back out here to evaluate potential pilots, and this station’s much further out of the way.”

Lotor hummed, and Lance tensed as a thought flickered through his head for the umpteenth time that day. “If I may ask a question, Your Majesty?” he asked hesitantly.

“You may.”

“The Paladins of Voltron...” he started, trailing off as he realized he had no idea what he was even asking. Something was off, and just thinking about it made his head hurt as bad as his ass did right now, but he had to know. “Did they seem, off, on that call?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Lotor frowned slightly, and Lance’s chest tightened. Stupid, stupid- of course Lotor wouldn’t know, he’d only ever seen them for what they were. Lance was just, just remembering how things had been before everything went sour, that must be it.

“Nevermind.” he smiled as brightly as he could manage, spreading his legs so the lower straps would be able to take hold properly when Lotor activated them. “How should I prepare myself for you tonight?” he ran a hand down over his crotch, and relaxed slightly as Lotor’s frown was replaced by a pleased little curl at the edges of his lips. He hated it when Lotor was upset, it always made him feel like a bad boyfriend.

“Keep it brief.” Lotor said, his soft expression turning downright lecherous. “Let’s see if we can’t stretch out my little reminder a few quintants longer, hmm?”

“Anything for you, My Liege.” Lance pressed a fist to his chest in salute, and began to strip off his armour.

\---

It had been a movement and a half, and his headache wasn’t abating. It ebbed, at times, but never fully dissipated, always there just in front of Midnight’s presence, a dull throb too insistent to ignore but not strong enough to justify mixing his booster with painkillers. Of course, he knew how to make it stop, but he didn’t think he could bring himself to do it. Something was wrong about that video call with the Paladins of Voltron, something huge, and his mind kept circling back to it no matter what he tried to distract himself.

He couldn’t figure out _why_ it was wrong, though. The feed had been high quality, no glitches or anything, and what he’d been able to see through the blaze of quintessence with his helmet off had matched what he heard. Keith had been angry, Shiro playing innocent and confused, as if they didn’t know he would’ve chosen to stay with Lotor after what they did. It all made perfect sense, so why did it feel so wrong? Why did it hurt to try thinking about pieces that should fit together but didn’t?

Lance groaned, and let his head loll as he leaned back in his chair. Midnight wrapped around him, her presence like a heavy weight somewhere around his diaphragm, and he let himself focus on that for a minute. Midnight was like Blue, like every Lion of Voltron, she had no capability for deception. Every feeling, every not-quite-word, it was as truthful as her source material. Midnight cared, loved him as if he were her own pup. She would never have let him be sacrificed, and if it had happened anyways she would’ve come rushing to his rescue asap.

“What’s wrong with me?” he muttered under his breath. Keith had called Lotor cruel for keeping him alive, for giving him the first home he’d known since leaving Veradera for the Garrison. Shiro had questioned his motives, as if he hadn’t been one of the people who put Lance in the situation Lotor had rescued him from. Pidge had even had the gall to ask why he didn’t return to them, like they wouldn’t’ve simply used him as bait or a sacrifice next time someone had to be either. Hunk- he blinked his eyes open, sitting up slowly.

Hunk hadn’t _said_ anything, but he hadn’t been silent. He’d been crying. And not the babbling fear-tears he’d had back in their first- Lance frowned, brow furrowing as he tilted his head forwards and down to look at his hands. His headache was back, more intense than before, but he gritted his teeth and pushed on through the mire of cranial agony. Their first day out in space, Hunk had berated him for taking so long to get him to his waiting Lion. And yet, when he thought of his ex-roomie’s panicky fear-tears, he thought of Hunk in Blue without his armour.

Hunk would never have deigned to set foot in Blue if he had his Lion, which meant that must’ve happened when Lance took him to meet Yellow. But, when he thought back on that day, he couldn’t recall Hunk panicking? He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and bringing his hands up to cradle his head. The throb of his headache had escalated to full-on pounding now, making his eyes ache and ears ring so badly he was glad he was sitting down so he couldn’t lose his balance.

Hunk hadn’t even been panic-crying on the call, or angry-crying. He’d just been, crying, his sobs mostly muffled but definitely there in the background of the call. That didn’t make any sense. Why would he have been crying over Lance? And he’d definitely been crying over Lance, the sobs had started as soon as he took his helmet off.

He groaned, shifting his hands so he could dig the heels of his palms into his shut eyelids. He was supposed to be looking at a collection of personnel files to make a list of potential candidates for the next Jackal, not thinking about his jerk of an ex-friend. Come to think of it, why was he so certain had they even been friends? He couldn’t remember a single instance of Hunk being genuinely kind to him, not at the Garrison and certainly not on the castle, and yet... he shook his head, dismissing the thought. Task at hand now, ponder out-of-place memories later.

There would be plenty of time, after all. Lotor had grudgingly agreed to let him stick out the construction of the remaining Jackals, and it would be months yet before they were ready to pick their Pilots. Hopefully finding a pair of compatible galra would be easier than- oh, now there was an idea. He pushed through the pain, made easier by the fact it was fading fast, and sorted by people who had past postings in common with his current pilots. Perhaps it hadn’t been coincidence, that he’d already known the other Paladins of Voltron when they were chosen. From Coran’s telling, the original Paladins had also known each other long before Voltron was even built.

Neither of his pilots had anybody they’d call a close friend, but he’d never met Shiro and barely knew Keith or Pidge before that fateful night. If he narrowed it down to people who’d shared a posting with one or both of them, well, he had a hunch it’d make the selection process go faster at any rate.

\---

“You seem distracted.”

“Sorry.” Lance apologised reflexively. “My headache’s worse today than usual.”

“Than usual?” Lotor frowned, and Lance’s chest and throat tightened.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” he said hurriedly. “Just something I can’t get out of my head.” he offered a small smile, but Lotor didn’t seem appeased.

“What sort of something?” he asked, his low tone sending shivers over Lance’s skin, down his spine.

“Well...” he looked aside, and wished he had his full mask activated to hide the blush which was surely colouring his cheeks.

“Lance, you know you can tell me anything.” Lotor cajoled.

“The call with Voltron.” he said at length, and Lotor raised an eyebrow.

“That was over a movement ago, why are you still wasting time thinking about them?”

“It just, it didn’t seem right.” Lance grimaced. Hunk’s tears, Keith’s accusations, Pidge and Shiro’s questions, they all came together in his head to paint a clear and painful picture, but whenever he tried to put it into words none came. It didn’t help that even making an attempt pushed his headache to near-unbearable levels.

“It wasn’t right.” Lotor said, jolting Lance from his thoughts. “They threw you away, replaced you with their precious Princess.” he spat Allura’s title like a curse, and Lance found himself gritting his teeth at the harsh reminder of how he’d come into Lotor’s employ. “Forget about them, Lance.” his Emperor ordered. “You are mine now, the irreplaceable head of New Voltron. The Black Jackal will take no other pilot but you.”

Lance grinned, nodding as his headache diminished with his shifting focus. He just had to keep his mind on his job, on curating a list of potential pilots for the remaining Jackals and deepening his bond with the ones he already had and keeping Lotor happy. And maybe, just maybe, once Omoz was completed he could justify a week off to himself. Return to Lotor’s side and try to fix the distance he’d felt growing between them of late, maybe have an actual conversation or two about their relationship instead of letting Lotor sidetrack him with phenomenal sex.

“If that’s all for your progress reports...” Lotor trailed off pointedly, Midnight’s seat opening up under Lance’s ass. Pain spiked out from his cock ring, but he pulled up a smile and hooked a finger in the edge of the hole in his suit which opened over his ass in response to a button press on Lotor’s end. Tonight he’d give it his all, he’d earn the right to come more than once, and tomorrow he could start a side document of ideas on how to rebuild his and Lotor’s relationship, starting with figuring out what he’d done or not done to let it get to their current point.


	30. Chapter 30

Pidge groaned, rubbing their head as they stumbled out of the cryopod. Pod time for head wounds always sucked the worst, in their opinion. The just-healed ache was alright in their limbs, a low-level soreness all of them were well used to by now, but in their head it was aggravating as all hell. They blinked, and grimaced as they remembered what had put them in the pod in the first place. No wonder the knockoff Black Lion had been so nimble, so able to predict their movements. Its pilot was _Lance_.

They’d had trouble following the conversation, thanks to their concussion, but the worst thing was still painfully clear. Lotor had done something, somehow twisted Lance into one of his Generals, an Imperial soldier more willing to maul his own Lion than to come home in the ship he’d been given. Which meant, now that their thoughts were no longer muddied by mild brain trauma, the immediate course of action was clear. Find out what he’d done, and undo it. They looked up, and found only Hunk waiting for them.

“All booted up?”

“More or less.” Pidge grinned, joyless and sharp-edged. “Bridge or meeting room?”

“Bridge.” Hunk handed them the outer layer of their jumpsuit. “Allura’s been seeing what allies we have in the sector we’re getting a meteor signature from, and what type of support they can lend us.”

“Great.” Pidge stepped into their flight suit, hopping and shaking their legs a bit to get it on right. “How’s it going so far?”

“Not great. There’s a rebel encampment a few systems over, but they’re paranoid as all hell.”

“Damn.” Pidge zipped their suit up, and held a hand out for their armour, which Hunk handed over a piece at a time. “Maybe we can send Matt?”

“Send Matt.” Hunk said flatly.

“Yeah.”

“To convince aliens, _paranoid_ aliens, that they should risk their lives for our friend.”

“Yeah.” Pidge grabbed their rerebraces and started affixing them just under the stiff fabric pauldrons of their flight suit.

“Pidge, your brother’s not a diplomat.”

“I know.” they clasped the second rerebrace shut, and reached for the vambraces. “But our only real diplomats here are you and Allura, who we can’t spare, and Matt at least knows how the rebels work. If it’s between him and Coran, I’d send him.”

Hunk opened his mouth, then shut it. Pidge finished with their arm protectors and moved on to their legs.

“You still have to convince Shiro and Allura.” he said at last, as they started pulling on their armoured boots.

“Shiro trusts Matt, and Allura will be happy not to have to go herself.” they grinned. “And if _you_ agreed so easy, I’ve definitely got a point.”

“Maybe.”

They looked up with a questioning sound, and found Hunk looking pensive.

“I just, I want Lance back.” he sighed. Pidge stood, and grabbed his hand to squeeze it.

“We’ll fix this.” they said firmly. “He may be brainwashed, or mind-controlled, but whatever Lotor’s done to him we can undo.”

“I sure hope so.”

“I don’t care if I have to invent a new field of science, or read the castle’s whole library of altean medical texts, or spend the rest of my life working on it. I _will_ find a way to fix whatever Lotor did to Lance, and we _will_ get him back.”

They had to. If they didn’t... well, that didn’t even bear thinking about.

\---

The situation, as it stood, wasn’t a great one. Keith was a shit tactician, and even he could see that. Lotor had moved battleships into Lance’s sector of space under the guise of reminding his planets in the area who was ‘protecting’ them, and the rebel cell they were going to have to heavily rely on had insisted that any further negotiations be done in person. Their plan wasn’t particularly good either, if he was being honest. Using Voltron as a distraction, as _bait_ , put the lion’s share of the responsibility on people they barely knew. People he still wasn’t sure they could trust.

But, the alternative was waiting. Waiting for the Coalition to decide how many people and ships they could spare, waiting for those fighters to be scrambled, waiting for other people to say it was okay for them to go get Lance back. Their current plan made him uneasy, but the prospect of _waiting_ made him almost physically sick. It was almost as bad as the memory that kept forcing its way back into his head, of Lotor’s lecherous smile and the way his voice had made Keith’s skin crawl as he all but said Lance was his- his-

Keith shook his head. He’d seen his friend stop flirting the second an alien even he’d noticed as pretty said something bad about another person. Lance had standards, and Lotor, the Emperor of the Universe, _definitely_ did not meet them. Whatever was going on, it was probably... he shuddered, shaking his head harder. It was none of his business, and it wouldn’t matter soon anyways. They had their game plan, and the rebels had theirs. By this time next phoeb, at the latest, Lance would be back where he belonged. Back where Keith could grab him by the shoulders and shake him and ask him in person why he’d never come back, why he’d never at least called to let them know he was alive.

A rumble came from above him, and he leaned back against the Lion’s leg behind him with a sigh. “Don’t worry, girl.” he grinned, letting the bright flare of hope in his chest burn brighter. “We’ll get him back for you.” he patted the top of her foot, where he was sitting, and she rumbled again. Even without a bond, he was pretty sure it was a happy sound. The castle had been so quiet for so long, a miasma of grief they’d never had time to process filling the halls, he barely knew what to do now that it had been flushed out with an almost intoxicating level of hope.

Blue must have known, somehow. She’d never taken a new Paladin because she knew Lance was still alive. And if Lotor had given Lance a knockoff Lion, then that explained why she hadn’t been able to rush to her Paladin’s rescue. While he’d been Black’s pilot, Red’s presence had gone from a blazing fire to something more like banked coals, present but dormant. Of course, that assumed that a knockoff made of the same ore operated in a similar manner, but Keith felt pretty confident in making that assumption.

“Keith.” Allura’s voice drew him from his musings, and he looked down to see the altean princess striding across the hangar in her pick-accented flight suit. “Get to Red.”

“Another goodwill mission?” he asked rhetorically, and she smiled. It wasn’t a comforting smile, like he’d seen her give to civilians. It was cold, ruthless, and he was reminded inexplicably of the one time he’d seen snow back on Earth. The way it had looked so soft and inviting, until you broke the crust of ice on top and round yourself with a bloody scratch up your wrist.

“Matt called.” she said by way of an answer, and his feet hit the floor in the next second.

“What are we waiting for?” he smiled back, pulling his helmet on. “Let’s go distract the Imperial Fleet.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fully blame the klance klance discord for this turn of events. yall are a terrible influence and I love you.

It stung, just a bit, having to wait until they got word that the second knockoff would be gone for a day before planning their attack. Taking out, or better yet _capturing_ both ships at once would’ve been ideal, but this rebel cell didn’t have the manpower to manage that. Nor did they have ships big enough to haul the knockoff Black Lion that Lance was apparently flying now, so destruction it was. “The things you get into in space.” he mumbled to himself, sealing his helmet. «Ready?» he signed, and waited until he had affirmative symbols from his whole team before turning back to the airlock’s exterior door.

“We’re ready back here.” he said into the mic in his helmet. “You got us lined up?”

“Have had for the last dobosh.” the pilot replied, and Matt yelped as he was suddenly thrust out into the void by the doors snapping open. His comms crackled out as soon as he left the ship’s hull, and the only sound was his own breath in his ears. All of that was familiar, almost normal after all the walks to touch up the outside of their Kerberos ride and his time on a super secret radio relay station with limited pockets of atmosphere. The unusual part, the thing that had his adrenal glands in near overdrive, was the _speed_.

He was pretty sure if he’d still been wearing his Garrison-issue space suit, it would’ve been torn to shreds. But, luckily, alien materials were a lot sturdier and their design was sleeker, though he supposed that didn’t matter too much in the void... no, right, focus, he was rapidly approaching the ship he needed to catch onto. Each of them had a chest-mounted air cannon with six charges, in case they overshot, but he’d rather not leave the rescue of someone he’d come to regard almost as fondly as his own sister in the hands of people who were only helping at all on the promise it would get the Imperial battleships out of their system.

He caught on the edge of a deep black panel, and a glance around showed that only two of the other four he’d jumped with had stuck the landing. That was alright, each of them had their own supply of charges. He gestured to the others, and lead them down to the underbelly, where Green opened up to a small, empty cargo bay. And once they arrived, he froze. The knockoff didn’t have a seam down its belly for a pair of doors, just smooth black plating with the edges of colourful accents peeking down from the side.

Fuck.

At least they knew it still had a mouth, which made that airlock the front door, so the speak. He hated coming at a stealth mission so plainly, but the knockoff ship was speeding up and void or no void Matt didn’t fancy the idea of falling off. He gestured again for them to follow, and thanked his lucky stars that this might seem almost intentional. Lance wouldn’t be able to see them coming through the bottom of his ship’s jaw, and once they were in it wouldn’t matter much anyways as long as they made sure to step softly.

Being in the ship’s mouth was slightly comforting, since it meant not having to worry as much about losing his grip and going flying off into space, but it was also nerve-wracking. He couldn’t hear if they were making noise as they prised open a bit of panelling and tripped the airlock door with some crossed wires. These things had auto-pilot, and they still had almost five minutes before they reached Voltron. If they were made here, there was a good chance they’d all die.

Thankfully, once they passed through the doorway, artificial gravity kicked in. The door snapped shut behind them, the ship seeming to sense their presence, and Matt watched the little bars of the atmospheric monitor in his helmet’s HUD climb from zeroes to a breathable level. The inner door opened with a soft hiss, and Matt patted the doorway as he passed through. There was a ladder just inside the ship’s entrance, with a narrow hall stretching back past it. His companions started down it, charges in hand, and he set his jaw as he scaled the ladder to the upper level, where the cockpit should be.

The ladder came up at the back end of a hallway, rather than in the middle like it did in Green, and he pulled his staff from his back as he approached the door to the cockpit. Pidge had updated it with a taser on one end for this mission, calibrated to knock Lance out cold so they could transport him somewhere safe to break Lotor’s brainwashing, and he thumbed over the power switch for it. Two seconds of contact with the suit under the armour, and he could set his own charges without worrying about being overheard.

The door opened for him automatically, and Matt wondered briefly if this ship _wanted_ him to take its pilot. That train of thought was quickly set aside, though, as the pilot’s seat spun around to face him. Logically, he knew that the person sitting in the chair was Lance, his sister’s friend and fellow Paladin, a victim of some form of brainwashing at Lotor’s hands. But deep in his brain, some ancient survival instinct screamed that he was facing a _predator_.

He froze.

It was only for a fraction of a second, the span of time it took to realize those sharp lines and glowing eyes were nothing more than armour, but the damage was done. Lance was out of his seat in a flash, moving inhumanly fast, and Matt barely got his staff up in time to block the swing of the energy blade aimed to cleave him open from shoulder to hip. The sword glowed brighter as Matt dodged its second swing, a low buzz filling the air that reminded him far too much of a lightsaber for comfort. He leapt sideways, rolling when he hit the floor and coming up poised to leap.

Lance twisted to face him, and Matt lunged with his staff out. He had the greater reach, he had to use that. Lance parried, sending him stumbling, and Matt choked on a scream as something burning bit into his side. A freakishly strong kick to his ribs forced him to roll over, and he groped for his staff blindly as he blinked away tears of pain.

“Mask off.” Lance growled in Galran, and Matt gritted his teeth as the teen planted a foot on his chest and leaned his weight on it. “Now.”

“Like hell.” he gritted out, making eye contact with the mask as he found and shakily brought up his weapon. Lance didn’t even bother dodging, why would he when Matt had neither the strength nor the leverage to dislodge him? He pressed the end of his staff to Lance’s abdomen, just under his ribs, and flipped the switch.

Lance screamed, jerking back, and Matt rolled to his feet to press his staff forward and keep contact. Two seconds didn’t sound like long at all, but it felt like an eternity before Lance collapsed. Matt sagged, turning off the electrical component and using his staff to prop himself up. “I got him.” he said into the short-range comms which connected him to the others, and once he switched his mic back off he heaved a sigh of relief. The adrenaline was already starting to wear off, and even just breathing hurt, but no matter how much it sucked he had to set his charges before they could leave.

Also get the ship to slow down so its high-speed shrapnel didn’t obliterate anyone they wanted to survive Voltron’s decoy battle, and probably slap something over this tear in his suit so he didn’t fucking die when they got picked up. “Don’t worry.” he said, looking down at Lance’s prone form as he reached for his pouch of explosives. “Once we get back to the castle, we’ll get you fixed right up.”


	32. Chapter 32

Awareness came to Lance in bits and pieces. Pain first, then other sensations. He was lying down, still in his armour, in an open but not overly large room. He opened his eyes, squinting slightly at the light above him, and only barely managed not to tense as he realized he didn’t know where he was. Cautiously, without moving his head, he looked around. The room was pale, probably white, and he was lying on a bed which seemed to be only pressed against one wall. The bed had rails, one of which he was cuffed to, and the only other furniture he could see was a pair of chairs.

One of which was occupied by the bastard who had tased him in Midnight’s cockpit, sound asleep and snoring like a chainsaw.

His heart leapt in his chest, and he sat bolt upright. Midnight! He reached for their bond, faint and flickering, and felt a weak pulse of increased gravity under his lungs paired with a feeling of lightness in his upper chest. Comfort and joy. She was okay, he was okay, as long as both those things remained true nothing would be able to keep them apart forever. He relaxed slightly, and took a proper look around the room, lowering his mask’s level of filtration.

The walls were a pale green, thin lines of light running through them in tight bundles, and he counted easily a dozen quintessence signatures in the rooms adjacent to his and the hallway outside. Some of them had extra signatures held close, the distinctive flare of standard issue galran rifles. Guards, then. But why would his kidnappers have put him in a hospital room instead of a cell? He frowned, looking back at his assailant, and his eyes widened as he processed the quintessence signature.

Green. Bright, vivid, minty green light haloed him, and a shiver ran down Lance’s spine as he reached out with his free hand. Escaping here had just become that much trickier. He couldn’t very well leave such a perfect specimen behind, not when Omoz was finally done and the next Jackal was nearing the halfway point. Lotor did want him to have a full and functional team by the time the Jackals were all complete, after all.

His assailant had stopped snoring, and Lance lowered his hand as the man sat up. The distinctly human, uncomfortably familiar looking man. “Matt?” he frowned, and the elder Holt’s head snapped up.

“Lance!” he beamed. “You remember me?”

Lance gritted his teeth, scenes of his interactions with the self-proclaimed Genius Trio of the castle running through his head. “I remember.” he answered in Galran, and felt a stab of vindictive pleasure when Matt’s forehead creased in confusion.

“O-kay.” he shook his head slightly, and gave Lance another smile. “Well, you don’t have to worry. Our allies took out that orbital station, and we made sure to pull all the trackers from your suit before bringing you back here. You’re safe.”

“Hard to believe that when I’m cuffed to the bed.” he deadpanned, exaggerating the consonants to make his displeasure clear.

“Hey, I was against it.” Matt raised his hands placatingly. “But the head of this cell didn’t want to risk you going all Kylo on any of his guys.” he gestured at his side, where something that looked an awful lot like duct tape covered the part of his suit Lance had cut through.

“So, if I ask you _why_ you kidnapped me, will I get a straight answer?” he asked after a few seconds of silence. Matt blinked at him, confusion evident on his face for a moment before comprehension dawned.

“It’s okay, Lance.” he smiled, absurdly soft, like he expected Lance to need comforting. “Whatever Lotor did to you, we’ll make sure it gets undone. He’ll never touch you again.”

Lance tensed, hands fisting in the sheet draped over his legs. “Who ever said I _wanted_ that?” he hissed, Galran sharp in his mouth. “I’m Lotor’s lover of my own volition, and he has given me more than Voltron ever did.” he leaned forwards, knuckles protesting as his hands clenched harder. “Lotor _will_ find me, and I will happily let him throw your so-called allies to the arena if you try to keep me from him.”

Matt balked, and Lance deactivated the lower half of his mask to let Pidge’s brother see his smile. “Not you, though.” he reached out again, and caught Matt by the jaw. “I think I’ll give you to a certain druid I know. Xi wanted to advance one of xir methods to galran trials, after finishing xir training, but I think a human trial will suffice.”

Matt tried to recoil, but Lance kept a grip on his jaw. “Don’t worry.” he purred, lowering his voice the way Lotor did sometimes during his nightly reports. “I’ll make sure xi takes good care of you.”

“This isn’t you.” Matt said softly, still trying to escape Lance’s grasp. “Lance, I know you. This isn’t-”

“Oh, but it is.” Lance smiled, sharp and dangerous, and bumped up the luminosity of his mask’s eyes to make them flash menacingly.

“Lance, please.” Matt gripped his wrist, eyes wide. “You don’t have to do this. Your team-”

“My team is down one base of operations now, thanks to your so-called allies.” he scowled.

“Not-” Matt grunted as Lance tightened his grip slightly. “Not them. Your real team, your _friends_.”

“Kyrin and Orshan _are_ my real team.” Lance growled, digging his nails into Matt’s skin. “And if you’re talking about the bastards who abandoned me, who threw me to the druids and left me for _Lotor_ to rescue, then I think you need to re-evaluate your definition of _friend_.” he shoved Matt back, making the chair squeak as it scooted away from him, and squared his shoulders as he scooted back to sit against the wall. “Now, you’re going to-”

A familiar spike of pain shot through his groin, and Lance froze mid-sentence. “Oh no.” he breathed, the ring around his base vibrating to life and tightening further than ever before.

“Lance?” Matt frowned, cautiously standing from the chair. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” he bit out, checking the time. Sixteen vargas and thirty doboshes. He was five doboshes late.

“You don’t look so-”

“It’s private, okay?” he snapped. “Your timing fucking _sucks_.”

“I don’t follow.” Matt frowned, and Lance bit back a groan as the vibrations increased, pressing his head back against the wall.

“You- made me- late.” he panted, heart racing in his chest. This room was smaller than Midnight’s cockpit, and his suit was still fully on in addition to the sheet pooled in his lap, but he’d never felt so exposed before. Or at least, not since the first time Lotor laid him bare. “My Liege- demands- punctuality- in all things.” he couldn’t quite swallow the sound he made as the ring’s vibrations spiked, and Matt’s eyes widened slightly as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed by Lance’s waist, legs hanging awkwardly over the side rail.

“Lance, that’s not right.” he said earnestly, taking one hand in both his own. “None of this is right.”

“Fuck you.” he snarled, and Matt beamed. Only for a moment though before his face went back to a mask of concern.

“You said you’re Lotor’s lover, but is he yours?”

“Obviously.” Lance wrinkled his nose. What kind of stupid question was that?

“Then why not call him that?”

Lance opened his mouth, but all that came out was a breathy little noise. He couldn’t even remember, off the top of his head, why he didn’t call Lotor his boyfriend or lover or anything of the sort.

“You say he’s given you more than Voltron did, but how much of that has been love?” Matt pressed on. “How often does he reciprocate what you’ve given him?”

“Whenever- I ask.” he lied. 

“And without prompting?”

He opened his mouth, but couldn’t bring himself to say it. Matt was giving him a Look, like he already knew the answer, and Lance felt hot tears welling in his stupid, traitorous eyes. “Fuck you.” he hissed. “I owe him- _everything_. After Voltron- after they-”

“Lance, they never abandoned you.” Matt’s hands tightened around his. “We’ve been mourning you for months now, the castle hasn’t been the same since you left. Why do you think we organised a rescue mission at the very first opportunity?”

“That- what?” Lance frowned, distracted momentarily from the vibrating, painfully tight cock ring. That didn’t make sense, except- he groaned almost hanging his head forwards before pressing it back harder against the wall as pain bloomed inside his skull. The call, their faces- the pain was growing worse, tears sliding down his cheeks as Matt squeezed his hand.

“Lotor’s done something to you, Lance. He’s put lies in your head, he’s made you forget things. We thought that you were dead, that you gave your own life to save an innocent’s.” Matt’s hand left his, and a thumb ran along the underside of his mask. “The Lance I know is a hero, and I know he’s still in here. Under everything Lotor’s done, I know our Lance is still in there.”

“Why-” Lance hiccupped, struggling to breathe through the pain in his head and too-tight throat. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you needed to hear it.” Matt smiled. “Now, if I take the cuff off, do you promise to come with me back to the castle?”

Lance opened his mouth, but before he could answer the door flew open to reveal a panting, brown-scaled alien with an ugly, muddy yellow shade of quintessence. “We’ve got a problem. Lotor’s headed our way.”


	33. Chapter 33

“He’s what?!” Matt yelped, scrambling to his feet.

“You heard me.” the alien glared at him, then at Lance, then back at him. “Our base has been compromised, and we haven’t the time to evacuate all our injured. What will Voltron do for us, now that they’ve gotten us into this mess?”

“We’ll fix it.” Lance said, and Matt whipped his head back around to stare at the Blue Paladin. “Lotor isn’t coming for you, he’s coming for me.”

“We’re _not_ giving you back to him.” Matt interjected, derailing Lance’s self-sacrificing suggestion before he could finish. “Not after we did so much to get you back in the first place.”

“Do you have a better plan?”

“Yes, actually.” Matt set his jaw. “We take the fight to him.”

Lance and the alien rebel whose name Matt didn’t know both stared at him, and he latched onto the first train of thought that presented itself. “We can do it the same way we did with Lance’s ship.”

“Jackal.”

“Lance’s jackal.” he corrected himself. “We sneak in close in a cloaked ship, board Lotor’s cruiser using Lance’s access codes, and take out the engines.”

“I’ll go get Leader.” the alien said quickly. “He’ll want to hear this.”

Matt nodded, and turned to Lance with a small grin. “Better than just going back without a fight, at least?”

“You made that up on the fly.”

Matt shrugged. “Eight years DMing and a lifetime of prank alibis and school papers. Bullshitting is one of my specialties.”

Lance barked out a laugh, and Matt grinned. Lance was still himself, under everything Lotor had done to him. Still the same idiot who would give his own life to save others without batting an eye.

“Hey, Matt.” Lance said at length, sitting forward now with one of his legs drawn up. “What would you do if I suggested we take that plan of yours all the way?”

“I guess that depends on what you mean by ‘all the way’.”

“What if, we don’t stop at the engines.” Lance kept his head down, masked face turned towards the bed as he wrapped his arms around his raised leg. “What if we kill Lotor?”

\---

Matt clenched and unclenched his hands on the grip of his staff, forcing himself to breathe deep and regular. They had a plan, and as long as Lance had remembered the crucial points around the engine correctly then today would end with a proper power vacuum in the Galra Empire, worsening the infighting and giving the Coalition more openings to get in and free planets, or help them free themselves.

“You remember the plan, yeah?” Lance asked the pair of rebels who were going to be setting charges around the engine room, grabbing them casually by their backplates.

“Follow the map, don’t prime anything ‘til we get the order.” one of them recited obediently. They sounded young, and their partner was bouncing gently on the balls of their feet. From the lack of decoration on their space suits, this was their first mission.

“Good.” Lance released both of them, patting them on the back as he came over to where Matt and the other two rebels in their team were waiting. “Just trust me, follow my lead, and this will all turn out fine.”

“Hard to trust someone who wears a druid mask.” one of their companions remarked pointedly, and the lower half of Lance’s mask vanished to show a reassuring smile.

“Believe me, I know the feeling.”

That seemed to placate the rebels, and Lance’s smile fell as he turned to Matt. He opened his mouth, shut it again, and Matt chuckled. “Don’t worry, I only killsteal in video games.” he assured the Blue Paladin, holding up a hand with three fingers raised. “Scout’s honour.”

Lance chuckled, and the lower half of his mask materialised again. “Just remember, no killing the Generals, and Lotor himself is mine.”

Matt nodded in synch with the other rebels, and activated his own facemask as the pilot announced they were in position. “You ready?” he asked Lance softly.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Let’s go kick some galra butt.” he grinned, spinning his staff up against his back to stick in the magnetic holder. The airlock opened a second later, and Lance held out a hand as they approached the small hangar door. Lotor’s ship evidently recognised the chip embedded in the palm of his suit, because the door actually opened for them.

Lance landed gracefully, making the transition from floating to walking seem effortless, and Matt landed more heavily beside him. He seemed to finally be relaxing, if only slightly, which tracked with what Matt had been told as well as what he’d deduced on his own. Lance had been imprisoned and abused here, but he’d also probably been conditioned to associate this ship with good things. No point in having a living weapon who would rather die than come home, after all.

Lance tilted his head slightly, looking around, then motioned for them to follow him and started towards the door. The hallway beyond was, unusual, for an Imperial ship. The colours were all wrong, a pale sort of blue-purple on the walls and blue-tinged lights instead of the customary purple and pink. He had to admit, it looked a lot less foreboding than what he’d been expecting. Clean lines, soft colours, no ostentatious spiky ornamentation anywhere, by galra standards it was downright homey.

Lance stopped at a corner, checking the connecting hall before waving them onward. He grabbed one of the others by the back of their collar before they could cross, and when Matt peeked around the corner he spotted one of the little floaty sentry drones slowly spinning at the next intersection. Lance and the other rebel joined them a few seconds later, and Lance resumed leading them through the halls of Lotor’s ship towards the bridge, where the Emperor himself would undoubtedly be.

Even just thinking about Lotor coming to collect Lance set Matt’s teeth on edge, protective fury coiling tight in his chest as he watched Lance pull the other rebel back from being spotted by another sentry. Sure, Lance was a Paladin of Voltron, one of the most capable people in the universe, but he also wasn’t that much older than Katie. He was still a teenager, barely of age to serve in the military and years away from being able to drink. The thought of what Lotor must’ve done to twist such a good-hearted child into the vicious living weapon before him...

Well, he’d promised not to kill-steal, but a good solid kick in the nuts never killed anybody.


	34. Chapter 34

The doors to the bridge opened as he approached, and Lance drew himself up tall as he strode through them. Matt and the other rebels followed him, then pushed past him, rushing to surround Lotor in an equilateral triangle with Matt opposite Lance. Good, that was going to be the best seat. He held out a hand, and a sentry stepped forwards to give him its gun.

“Lance.” Lotor grinned, small and proud.

“Sorry I missed our call last night.” he reached into a pocket of his suit, and pulled out the detonator. “Things got a little messy.” he sealed his suit as he depressed the button, and managed not to flinch as the charges tucked under the rebels’ collar fairings exploded, blasting their heads and upper bodies apart in a shower of greenish gore.

The twin blasts rocked him, the sound largely muted by his helmet, and he smiled as he deactivated the lower half of his mask to break the seal. Lotor grimaced, picking a bit of exoskeleton out of his hair, and turned to look at Matt as Lance walked up to stand at his emperor’s side where he belonged. “What about this one?” Lotor asked, and Lance smiled wider.

“Brother of the Green Paladin.” he spun the sentry’s rifle into the holster on his back. “I was thinking Orshan could use a human test subject for some of xir experiments, and if it goes well he can be my third pilot.”

“An excellent plan.” Lotor all but beamed, and Lance’s chest glowed with pride. “Now, these surely were not the only ones involved in your capture.”

Lance shook his head. “They’re located on Juitov, in a mountainous region just shy of the sunward polar cap.”

“Lance, wha-” Matt slurred, pushing himself up from where he’d been knocked to the ground. Lance chuckled, and walked forwards through the mess until he could crouch in front of Matt.

“I told you, didn’t I?” he smirked, reaching out to grip Matt’s chin. “I _chose_ to serve Lotor.”

“Lance, please.” Matt was shaking now, eyes wide and poorly focused. “This isn’t-”

Lance snarled, tightening his grip and slamming Matt’s head into the floor. “It is.” he hissed, blood singing in his veins. “I am loyal to my emperor, to the Empire.” a grin pulled at his lips, sharp and cruel, and he twisted his wrist so Matt was forced to meet his eyes. “And once Orshan is done with xir training, you will be too.”

“Lance.” Lotor’s voice sent shivers down his spine, which the cock ring quickly echoed with a pulse of pain. “The sentries can handle him, and I’ve already messaged the other generals about their base.” fingers brushed the back of his head, and Lance’s eyes fluttered shut as Lotor’s claw-like nails dragged along his scalp. “Go wash yourself, and present yourself in my chambers as soon as you’ve finished.”

“Of course, My Liege.” he sighed, eyes opening again as Lotor’s hand left his head. He stood, pulling Matt up to his unsteady feet, and the sentries had him cuffed in seconds. The cock ring pulsed with pain again, and Lance pushed aside the cold knot in his guts. Lotor would surely reward him tonight, as he had last phoeb. He could hardly wait.

\---

The door opened for him when he knocked, but there was nobody on the other side. Lance could hear water running, though, and reasoned that Lotor was probably trying to get all the viscera out of his hair. In retrospect, he sorta wished he’d managed to warn his emperor of the plan, but getting the other Generals in on it without the rebels noticing had been hard enough. Still, Lotor might be upset with him, and the thought made Lance’s breath come short, the weight of Midnight’s presence in his chest all that kept him anchored in the here and now.

Matt had called it wrong.

He shook his head, dropping it into his hands to clutch at his hair. Lotor loved him, and he loved Lotor. Even if he didn’t owe the Emperor literally everything, this would be his proper place, where he’d want to be. Lotor loved him, Lotor _loved_ him. He knew that as surely as he knew his own name, so why were Matt’s lies sticking in his head like this? Lotor wasn’t the best boyfriend, sure, but this wasn’t wrong. This was his place, under Lotor, bent to his emperor’s will.

“Lance?” Lotor’s voice was soft, his touch on Lance’s bare shoulder softer. “Are you injured?”

“No.” he sat up, pulling a smile to his lips. “Just, thinking about some stuff Matt said.”

“Oh?” Lotor sat next to him, an expectant look on his face.

“Nothing important, just...” he trailed off, trying to think of how he could phrase it so Lotor wouldn’t be upset. “Some ill-informed opinions of you.”

“Well, I’m sure that druid of yours will fix that right up.” Lotor grinned, and Lance let himself be reeled in for a kiss on the head. “Now, prepare yourself for me.”

“Gladly, My Liege.” Lance smiled, even as his cock ring sent pulses of familiar pain out from his crotch. He went for where Lotor usually kept the lube, and frowned when the bottle that came out in his hand was full of dimly glowing pink gel instead of the usual barely-blue variety. “New lube?” he asked, holding it up for Lotor to see.

“Yes.” the emperor nodded. “Be generous with it.”

Lance nodded his understanding, and positioned himself against the headboard so Lotor would have a good view. The lube was already warm when he squirted it into his hand, his skin tingling slightly on contact. He coated his fingers, set aside the bottle, and dug two into his ass right off the bat. The tingling warmth was more powerful at his rim, and he worked up to four fingers with record speed, the wet sound of lubed skin on skin punctuated with breathless little moans of Lotor’s name. The bed shifted between his legs, and Lance spread them wider, his entire lower body aching with the need to be ravished.

“What a good little Paladin you are.” Lotor purred, stroking his cock, and Lance’s rhythm stuttered at the sharp burst of pain from his cock ring. “I think you’ve earned yourself another reward.” the pain stopped abruptly, and Lance could only gasp as his cock immediately sprang to attention. “The quintessence in that gel has two purposes.” Lotor murmured in his ear, grabbing Lance by the hips and dragging him down the bed until his ass was pressed against Lotor’s thighs, the new angle forcing him to remove his hand. “For older galra to use when they can’t get it up, and for omegas to trigger their heats.” he dragged a claw along the sensitive skin behind Lance’s balls, and pre dribbled from his cock at the contact.

“I- I’m not- either.” he panted, the tingling heat from the lube diffusing through his core, burning wanton need into every cell.

“No, but it will still affect you.” Lotor swiped his finger through the excess gel, and moved his hand up to rub over Lance’s nipples. Lance moaned, bucking up against Lotor as best he could with his current angle, and Lotor chuckled as he moved both hands back to Lance’s hips. “You may not smell like an omega, or soak yourself with slick like one, but as long as you use this you will be as needy as one.” Lotor bent forwards over him, and Lance cried out as the Emperor thrust into him sharply.

His cock felt bigger than before, in every dimension, and Lance could only throw his head back and moan as Lotor took him hard and fast. He clutched at the sheets, gasping for breath as Lotor’s cock _changed_ inside him, sprouting ring after ring of firm nubs that caught at his entrance and scraped over his prostate with every thrust and drag. “Lotor.” he gasped, and Lotor bent double to bite at his shoulders.

“Beg for me.” he groaned, thrusting harder than before, every snap of his hips driving Lance down into the mattress. “Beg for _all_ of me.”

“Please!” Lance cried, meeting Lotor’s thrusts as well as he could. “Lotor, _Please_!”

Lotor moaned, and Lance cried out as the base of Lotor’s cock began to swell, stretching his already strained hole even further. “Mine.” Lotor growled as his knot finished growing, and Lance cried out again as he came. Lotor hissed a breath out through his teeth, and Lance felt familiar heavy warmth pumping into him. “Perhaps.” Lotor panted as he began moving again, slight little rocks of his hips that teased his knot against Lance’s rim, sending mind-blowing sparks scattering through his bloodstream. “Once the Jackals are fully assembled, and Voltron defeated, I’ll give you what you need to properly take my knot.” a sharper thrust, and Lance jolted in place, clutching at the blankets helplessly as his cock hardened.

“And once you’ve healed from the surgery, once it’s as much a part of you as your own skin.” Lotor thumbed over one of his nipples, and Lance nearly came on the spot. “I’ll prepare you with this lube every night, fuck you until you’ve forgotten everything but the feeling of my knot and the weight of my kits in your belly.” Lance moaned as Lotor came again, digging his head back into the pillows to expose his neck. Lotor took the bait, biting down on the exposed skin, and Lance lifted his hands to clutch at Lotor’s shoulder blades.

“Please.” he moaned as he felt the first hint of pressure building past Lotor’s knot. “Fill me.”

Lotor let out a sound which he could only describe as a growl, and Lance moaned loudly as Lotor began pistoning into him again, knot tugging at his rim with every pull back but never slipping free. His cock seemed to harden again as soon as he came, and he quickly lost count of how many time he’d climaxed. His whole front was a mess of his own come, and with each of Lotor’s climaxes he felt the pressure in his guts building. It was intoxicating, almost addicting, definitely enough to blow anything like doubt from his mind. The pressure finally released, and Lotor arched his back with a loud moan as he came one last time, sheer pressure forcing his come into Lance’s guts proper.

To Lance’s lust-fogged brain it seemed to last forever, a little eternity of being filled, and filled, and filled until his flat abs were wrapped around the slightest little bulge. But it did end, and Lotor collapsed on top of him with a soft little groan. Lance buried his face in the crook of Lotor’s neck, and let himself drift as the swell of flesh in his ass slowly, slowly shrank down. Lotor pulled out as soon as he was able, and Lance moaned softly as his ass was lifted, keeping the come from gushing right out.

“You love this, don’t you?” Lotor murmured, stroking a hand over the tight bulge just above Lance’s hips. “Being so heavy and full of my come, full of me even when I’m finished with you.”

Lance nodded, cock twitching as Lotor dragged his fingers through the mess under it. “How would you like it, I wonder, to hold my seed for the rest of the movement?” he lifted his hand, rubbing his fingers together, smearing them with a thin sheen of white. “After all, you have nothing better to do until your Jackal is repaired. How much, I wonder, could I pump into you? How much more would you beg for when I finished?” he dragged his hand over Lance’s stomach again, this time caressing the bulge of fluid trapped within him. “How large would you grow, holding my seed in your guts?”

Lance moaned, a small spurt of come dribbling from his cock, and Lotor laughed. “I take it that means you’re just as curious about the answer as I am.” he shifted, reaching for something out of Lance’s reach, and Lance moaned as a toy coated in the tingling warm lube was pressed into his ass. “Tomorrow, we’ll start the experiment.” he murmured, tracing a claw around the edge of Lance’s aching hole as he settled the fat plug in place. “If you don’t make too much of a mess tonight, I might even leave the ring off for you.”

Lance nodded, and Lotor pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before rolling to the side and seeming to fall asleep immediately. He wanted to please Lotor, wanted to be good and not come without permission, but the weight of the come in his gut and the aphrodisiac quintessence in the lube that covered the toy in his ass were making it hard, so very hard. Impossibly hard, he realized as he rolled onto his side and nearly came on the spot from the shift of weight inside him. He squeezed his eyes shut, and pressed his hands flat over his ears as if it would help block out the words in his memory.

Lotor loved him, Lotor wanted him to be better, to be able to keep up in bed. Lotor did this because- because- Lance whimpered, tears sliding free of his eyes. Sometimes he hated how sharp his mind was now, thanks to the booster. If he’d still been the old Lance, the one so stupid he didn’t even notice his own team was trying to kick him out, maybe he’d be able to actually convince himself that Matt had been lying when he implied Lotor didn’t love him.


	35. Chapter 35

Once he was sure and certain that Lotor was asleep, Lance gingerly pushed himself upright and slowly swung his legs out of bed. He bit his lip to muffle a moan, trying to ignore how his neglected cock throbbed between his legs, and rose to his feet. A quick, cold shower should help him counteract the effects of the quintessence, and then he could go find Narti. It was stupid o’clock in the morning, according to the little display on Lotor’s nightstand, but he doubted any of the other Generals were asleep right now. If anything, they might not even be back from destroying that rebel base yet, or if they were they were it was likely they were sparring in the training room.

The shower turned on easily, and he dialed it all the way to cold before stepping into the spray. A shiver shot through him immediately, but he gritted his teeth and reached for the soap. The quintessence tingled warmer inside him, and he angled himself for maximum exposure to the pounding cold water. The heat didn’t go away entirely, of course, but by the time he was clean and presentable he wasn’t achingly hard anymore. He slipped back into his flight suit quickly, not bothering to dry his hair, and padded out into the hall in search of his clade. Sure enough, none of them were in their bunks, and the quintessence-driven heat was returning with a vengeance as he approached the training room.

He opened the door to the sound of laughter, and something tight in his chest loosened as he watched them tussle on the floor. Their armour and the mats were covered in blood, but none of it was purple, and he couldn’t see any bandages. “Have fun with the base?” he asked, stepping into the room, and four heads whipped towards him. Ezor was the first up, and Lance laughed as she scooped him up in a tight hug.

“Look who’s back!”

“Thanks for the workout, Toothpick.” Zethrid grinned, dropping a hand on his head to ruffle his hair when Ezor set him down. He leaned into the touch, and gave Narti and Acxa a grin as they walked up. Acxa looked him up and down, and Lance yelped when she lashed out and caught him on the shoulder with a sharp jab.

“That’s for getting kidnapped in the first place.” she scolded, and Narti let out a soft huff through her nose as she brought her hands up.

«We’re glad to have you home.»

“Glad to be back.” Lance reached out and gently touched her on the forearm. “I’ll have to introduce my team to you guys, once they’re all assembled and field ready. You’re gonna love them.”

“Puttin’ together a clade of your own?” Ezor asked, her smile all sharp teeth as she slung an arm around his shoulders.

“A pack, more like.” he chuckled, making sure to use the word for a group of animals and not the word for family.

“A pack, or a _pack_?” Acxa asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Aww, look, you’re making him blush.” Ezor laughed, pinching his cheek.

“You come here to spar?” Zethrid asked, and Lance shook his head.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could borrow Narti for a dobosh.”

«What for?» she signed, tilting her head curiously.

“Nothing to wake Lotor over, I promise.”

That got a laugh out of the other Generals, and Lance took Narti’s hand when she held it out to him. Kova got up from his spot by the door as they approached, jumping up onto Narti’s shoulder effortlessly, and Lance was grateful for once that with Narti there was never any expectation to fill the silence. They walked together to her room without saying a word, and when she gestured for him to sit on the edge of her bed he didn’t need any further prompting to start talking.

“It’s about my capture.” he said, focusing on the shape of the Galran sounds in his mouth instead of the anxious knot which had returned in the pit of his stomach, a cold counterweight to the radiant heat of the quintessence-infused lube and wet mass of Lotor’s come. “I was spoken to by a rebel who has history with Voltron, and he had some... troubling opinions about Lotor, about our relationship. I know he’s wrong, but I can’t get his words out of my head.”

«So you want me to do it for you.» Narti left off the final flourish of a sign to make the sentence a question, but Lance nodded anyways.

“Please.”

«Alright.» Narti lifted her hands towards his face, and Lance caught one by the wrist.

“Afterwards, can you send me back to Lotor’s room? He’ll be expecting me to still be there when he wakes.”

Narti nodded, and Lance shut his eyes as he let her into his mind. He couldn’t lie to himself well enough not to realise Matt had a point, but he also couldn’t make himself fall out of love with Lotor. He’d been perfectly happy with their relationship until Matt opened his stupid mouth, perfectly willing to do whatever it took to keep the two of them together. He still was, really. If forgetting Matt’s words was what it took to keep his love of Lotor from breaking his heart, then forget them he would.

Narti’s fingers carded through his hair, one hand at a time, keeping contact with his skin at all times, and he leaned into the touch with a small moan. Her voice whispered in the back of his mind, twining with Midnight’s low comforting rumble, and warmth suffused him. Narti sifted through his recent memories quickly, her touch light and gentle, and he sensed her looking at other memories in the background but made no move to stop her. She was curious, of course she was, he’d been away for months only to suddenly return twice in a phoeb. He opened his mind to her further, actively recalling memories of his pack, Kyrin and Orshan and the shivery feeling he’d got when he looked at Matt, the certainty that he was meant to be one of them.

Narti laughed, a breathy little noise, and smeared his memory of the conversation with Matt into one big blur. It had certainly happened, and the feeling of distaste lingered, but he could no longer recall the specifics of what had been said. Perfect. He sent a pulse of gratitude to Narti, who replied with a light laugh and a returning pulse of affection before one hand slid down to his side and urged him to his feet. Narti’s voice in his head urged him to walk, so he did, moving and turning as she directed him. The plug in his ass wasn’t quite a distraction, but the pressure and slight movement did have him painfully hard again.

Narti guided him as far as Lotor’s bed, and when her hand left his face the world went blissfully black.


	36. Chapter 36

Lance groaned, letting his head hang back against Midnight’s shiny new seat as she hit slipstream speed and autopilot took over. His whole body still ached from the past movement, his abs still protesting every motion even after the generous amount of quintessence-based salve Lotor had applied before letting him get dressed. He wasn’t too surprised, though. After spending the whole time stuffed alternately with Lotor’s cock and an equally massive plug, leaking only when one was exchanged for the other... well, he was pretty sure human bodies weren’t designed to handle that. Draining it all out hadn’t been pleasant in the slightest, like the worst diarrhea of his life. He’d have to ask Lotor to elaborate sometime on what the omega surgery he’d mentioned would entail, that it would allow them to do such a thing again without the unpleasant aftermath.

A pulse of pain came from his cock ring, and he sighed as he let his eyes slide shut. At least he’d have plenty to distract him until tonight’s call. Now that Omoz was complete, and Orshan’s’ training was basically over and done, there would be drills to run with his fellow pilots. Drills he would have to plan around Orshan’s working on Matt and the last of xir training, which would be a task in and of itself. Plus there were rewards to be doled out to both his pilots, for their exemplary work in protecting the crews who went back to gather scraps and raw materials from the wrecked orbital station after the attack was over.

He wasn’t exactly looking forward to that, the salve hadn’t reached everywhere and even without further aggravation he was sure to be feeling his last movement with Lotor for at least a week, but it was something which had to be done. For Kyrin’s sake, if nothing else. Maybe he’d go with oral this time around, minimise the amount of strain on his ass while it was still healing. Yeah, that could work, and given how Lotor had reacted the first time he offered it would probably be stupidly effective for reinforcing Kyrin’s loyalty programming. And making up for Orshan’s lack of programming, now that he thought about it. He’d have to go down on his druidic pilot first, to maximise the effect on xir.

There was also the issue of Matt. From what he’d scanned of Orshan’s reports, xie’d not made much progress on that front. Apparently, when he’d been blathering on about Holt resilience back before Lance was kicked out of Voltron, he hadn’t just been blowing hot air. Of course, there was always the chance Orshan’s experimental method needed refining, but he had faith in xir and xir work. Maybe after doling out rewards, he’d go see if he could help with getting Matt to a state where they could build him back up into a loyal soldier to pilot the next Jackal.

He landed Midnight in the hangar, and felt her pulse of tingly light happiness as she settled next to not one but _two_ of her pack. “Just you wait, girl.” he patted her dashboard as he stood. “By the end of the deca-phoeb, we’ll have the other two ready.”

Midnight’s excitement rolled up his arms like goosebumps, and he chuckled as he rested a hand on the back of the seat. She was so eager, so excited, and underlying that heady energy was a heavy sort of longing. She was individual, yes, but also part of a whole, and she yearned to be part of that whole again. The longing surged, and Lance only kept himself upright by his hand on the back of the pilot seat as an ache as cold as the void of space filled his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against Midnight’s emotions and his own headache.

“I don’t miss them.” he said firmly. “I _don’t_.”

Midnight quieted, and he slumped to rest his forehead next to where his hand still clutched the back of the seat hard enough his knuckles hurt. “I don’t miss them.” he repeated, and felt Midnight’s confusion at his statement. Why wouldn’t he miss his pack? He chuckled, forced and lifeless, and pulled himself back upright. Right, she didn’t know everything about him. She’d only gone as far back in his memories as Lotor saving him.

“Before I had you, I was part of another team.” he explained softly. “I was an idiot back then, I thought-” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. They gave me over to the druids, and Lotor saved me, and now I’ve got you.” he smiled absently. “I’ve never had a pack to miss, but I’m looking forward to finding the last pilot for my team.”

Midnight rumbled under his feet, and he rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “Right, right. My pack.” he loosened his grip on the seat back, smoothing his palm over the fabric. “Our pack.”

Midnight’s joy fluttered against his shoulders, and he let himself relax with a sigh. “Well, time to go make sure the packmates we’ve already got know how much they’re appreciated.” he stretched his arms over his head, and turned to leave the cockpit. “Later, Midnight.”

A heavy, comforting weight settled over him as he slid down the ladder, and he tilted his head into it slightly. Reward Orshan and Kyrin, see if he could help Orshan with Matt, and by the time that was all done it’d be time to get back in Midnight and call Lotor. Or, no, not anymore. He grinned, patting the door jam as he exited his Jackal’s airlock. Just before he left, the Emperor had told him to call from his quarters tonight. Murmured the order in his ear, after kissing the air from his lungs so thoroughly he’d barely managed to breathily whisper back an affirmative.

A pulse of pain came from his cock ring, and Lance muffled a wince. At least he could think of that kiss while he serviced his pilots. The kiss, and the blissful haze of a movement leading up to it. It’d hurt, but his pilots liked it when he moaned ‘for them’. He squared his shoulders, opened the hangar door, and made for the area of the station where Orshan had most likely set up shop. Hopefully xie’d not been living in xir lab. He could handle being in one of those rooms for an hour at most, before things started leaking past Narti’s magic, and that was never fun.

\---

Lance startled at the shrill sound of an alarm going off far too close to his head, and reflexively lashed out at the source of the noise. His hand passed straight through the holographic display of his desk clock, and he sighed as his brain caught up with his body, tapping the button to dismiss the alarm. Lotor would be expecting his call in a few minutes. He stood, stretching leisurely, and looked over at the lumpy covered thing which sat in the middle of his room’s empty space. His fingers twitched with the temptation to uncover it, but the note taped to the cloth was quite clear. No Peeking.

He sat back down, and got his holodot situated on the desk, the angular divot that marked the camera sensor thing pointed solidly at him. Once that was done he turned it on, checked the alignment again, and let it idle as he pulled up tonight’s report on his datapad. All good news, thankfully. Even with liberal application of quintessence-laced lube, a solid movement of alternately getting fucked senseless and stuffed with a knot-plug had left him achey and tender and _incredibly_ glad that his pilots didn’t expect anything more than oral from him.

He punched in Lotor’s number and dialed right on time, and smiled as the blank waiting screen resolved into an image of his emperor, shirtless and glistening wetly. He must’ve just come out of the shower, and Lance had to bite his lip to keep himself silent as his cock ring sent a particularly bad pulse of pain out from his crotch. “My Liege.” he pressed his fist to his chest in a salute.

“Timely as ever, Lance.” Lotor smiled, and Lance’s heart flipped in his chest. “And obedient.” his eyes flicked over Lance’s shoulder, and he managed a smile.

“Always, for you.”

“Of course.” Lotor grinned easily. “I appreciate that very much, Lance. I trust you’ve been good and not looked at your new gift yet?”

Lance shook his head, feeling quite relieved that he’d opted to resist the temptation.

“ _Very_ good.” Lotor purred, leaning forward so his eyes nearly filled the screen. “Bring your holodot over to the tall end, there’s a little stand under the cover to hold it.”

Lance did as he was told, and set the holodot down gently. It chimed, the sound of it connecting to something, and Lotor looked down at something in his hand with a grin. “Excellent. Now, give me your report as you strip.”

Lance nodded, already reaching for the clasps that held his cuirass together. “Permission to turn the holodot so I can hang my armour immediately, Sir?”

“I’ll do the turning.” Lotor said dismissively, and Lance’s eyes widened as his holodot swivelled in place. Lotor had control of it? He hadn’t known that. “Strip, and tell me of today’s events.”

“Right, yes, Sir.” Lance said, going back to unclasping his armour. “I rewarded both Kyrin and Orshan for their part in defending the crews retrieving material from the old station, and they’ve taken it without question. Their loyalty shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good.” Lotor nodded as Lance pulled the cuirass off over his head. “And what of your newest acquisition?”

“Matt is proving quite resilient, but Orshan is confident that xie can bring him to an appropriately malleable state within the next movement.” he said as he loosened his vambraces. “We’re already working on a loose script for his loyalty programming.”

“A script?” Lotor raised one eyebrow.

“Yes.” Lance nodded, re-fastening his vambraces on the sole mostly-empty mannequin of the three in the corner of his room. “It’s the story that all Orshan’s work will build off of. For Kyrin, the script is that he’s grateful to me for saving his life and status. For Matt, we’re considering utilising older memories since Orshan will have to alter them anyways to turn him against Voltron.”

After all, they’d not been cruel to Matt, and while he’d never joined in when they were picking on Lance, nor had he told them to stop. So to convince him to turn against Voltron, some adjustments would have to be made to his perception of events. Lotor hummed thoughtfully as Lance added his rerebraces to the mannequin and bent to start undoing his cuisses. “Wait.” Lotor said, and Lance straightened up before turning to the holodot, hands falling from his thighs to hand at his sides.

“Sir?”

“Leave those on.” Lotor instructed.

“But I have to take off my underwear.” Lance replied without thinking.

“So tear it.” Lotor dismissed, eyebrows drawing together slightly.

“I could take it off first and then-”

“You know how I hate to be kept waiting.” Lotor interrupted him, and Lance nearly bit his tongue.

“Yes, My Liege.” he bowed his head and gripped the zipper pressed against his neck, pulling it down until the track disappeared under his armour. With his underwear exposed, he slid his hands into his suit and gripped it on either side of the front seam. A couple sharp tugs was all it took, and he shivered as cool air hit his cock.

“How lovely.” Lotor purred, golden eyes flashing. “Come closer.”

Lance approached the holodot until Lotor held up a hand to bid him halt, and then stood still as his emperor looked him over like a piece of meat. “As exquisite as ever.” he sighed after a few long seconds. “Come, it’s time you saw my gift.” he gestured for Lance to come closer, and he walked up to the lumpy object the holodot stand was attached to. “Uncover it.” Lotor said, and Lance gripped the heavy fabric with both hands. It came off clean in one fluid yank, and his mouth went dry at the machine which was revealed.

It looked about the right size for him to straddle with his knees on the floor, shiny black all over save the seat which was done in Lotor’s signature purple-blue. The sides were marked with thin slits, and when he ran a hand over the seat he felt at least three distinct sections which could likely pull away. What had his heart pounding in his chest, however, were the spindly metal arms folded up at both ends of the machine, each one tipped with a different dildo.

“Do you like it?” Lotor asked. “There wasn’t time to recreate Midnight’s custom pilot seat, but I’m sure you were growing as bored of that as I was.” he waved a hand dismissively. “With this, we’ve any number of positions to choose from.” the holodot stand moved, sliding from one end of the machine around the side to the other. “And I’ve a wider angle to admire you from.”

Lance forced himself to swallow, and managed a smile. “None of these can compare to you, My Lord.”

“Oh, I know. But I’ll still enjoy watching you try them tonight.”

“A- All of them?” Lance’s voice caught in his throat, and Lotor smiled.

“Of course. We have to be sure it works as expected, after all.”

“Of course.” Lance’s smile felt brittle, but if this would make his emperor happy then it was his duty to go through with it. “Which one first?” he asked, feeling the seat of his suit open.

“Hmm.” Lotor tapped his chin, golden eyes narrowing slightly as he appraised the dildos. “You pick.” he said at last, and Lance blinked blankly at the screen. That was new.

“Any of them?” he asked hesitantly, and Lotor nodded. He bit at the inside of his lower lip, and cast his gaze over the collection of artificial cocks. Not a one of them looked human, and some he seriously doubted he’d be able to take to the base without damaging something. “Ummm...” he curled his fingers against the armour on his thighs, breaths growing shallower. Which choice was right? Lotor would surely love seeing him take the largest, but he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to without some serious prep work, and the Emperor wanted him to start testing immediately. The safest choice for his ass would probably be the tentacley-looking one, it was nicely tapered and not too wide at the base, but if he went safe then Lotor would be disappointed in him.

“You should pick.” he blurted after an agonizing stretch of silence, his heart hammering fit to burst out of his chest.

“Good boy.” Lotor purred, and Lance felt all the tension leave his shoulders at once. “Get on and grip the handholds here.” he pointed down, and Lance noticed that a pair of grips hung from the machine’s sides.

“Yes, My Lord.” Lance nodded quickly and straddled the machine, leaning forward to curl his hands around the handles without hesitation. Something clicked shut around his thighs, and he bit back a yelp as his ass was forced up into the air. Something slick and cold prodded at his hole, and he squeezed his eyes shut with a near-silent whimper as it began to press against him.

“Come now, Lance.” Lotor chuckled as the first ridge slipped into him. “It’s not much of a show if you’re not participating.”

“Of course, My Liege.” Lance managed a small smile as he lifted his head, his eyes seeking Lotor’s as the toy pressed further into him. If he could just drown himself in that hypnotic gold, then this wouldn’t hurt as much. Not until it was over, at least.


	37. Chapter 37

Lance affected a moan, bobbing his head down to take all of Matt in his mouth. It was easy as hell, after having gotten used to Lotor and Kyrin and some of the toys attached to Lotor’s ‘gift’ in his quarters, and took way less prep than anything else. He looked up through his lashes at Matt’s face, unfocused eyes glazed with lust and magic. Now that Orshan’s magic was finally actually working on him, Matt was seeing exactly what Lance wanted him to see, forming memories that Orashan would attribute to their time on the castle, their reunion in that rebel base, maybe he’d even have her slip one in on the shuttle up to Lotor’s ship.

He startled at the sudden blare of an alarm, and pulled off of Matt to look up at the ceiling, tapping on his comms. “Talk to me, Kyrin.”

“We’re under attack!” his first pilot yelped, and Lance stood as he heard the grunt of air being forced from his lungs. “Sir, it’s Voltron!”

Lance swore, and signalled Orshan to cut the session short. “We’re needed in the field. Voltron’s after our asses again.”

Xie nodded, removing xir hands from Matt’s head, and he slumped in his restraints with his mouth hanging open. Lance made a mental note to reschedule this session for a later date, and activated the lower half of his mask as he ran with Orshan to the Jackal hangar. Midnight and Sked were crouched and ready when they arrived, and he scaled the ladder to her cockpit in probably record time. The hangar door opened before he even hit the buttons, and he urged Midnight forwards out into the void of space.

“Kyrin, Jonyat, Hushi, status report.” he barked as soon as his suit’s built-in comms were synched with Midnight.

“They came outta nowhere.” Jonyat grunted, and Lance’s eyes flicked to the battleship which had just taken damage. Nothing fatal, yet, and there weren’t any Lions on him so he was probably safe for the time being.

“I estimate a few dozen rebel fighters, the Voltron Beasts, and their castleship.” Hushi’s voice crackled in his other ear. “The red one’s already damaged our comms, but they’ve been focusing the majority of their energy on the station.”

“And on me!” Kyrin complained.

“We need to buy time.” Lance said, eyes flicking over the battlefield. “Kyrin, engage the Red Lion. See if you can’t lead him away from the fight. Orshan, you take Green. They’re slippery, but their armour’s light.”

“Yes, Sir.” his pilots chorused, and shot off into the fray.

“Jonyat, Hushi, focus your fighters on the Black and Yellow Lions, stay out of Kyrin and Orshan’s way. Keep your ship’s guns aimed at the castle, if we can wear down their shield and force Voltron on the defensive you’ll both be getting a sizable promotion.”

“Sir!”

“And I’ll handle the Blue Lion myself.” he bared his teeth in a mockery of a grin, and charged forwards into the mess of fighters and Lions and Jackals. Blue was easy to find, flitting through the swarm of fighters on Black, and Lance prepped Midnight’s grav-gun as he lined up his shot. The Blue Lion shuddered as he hit it, disabling its internal inertial dampeners and artificial gravity in one fell swoop. A few fighters lost wings against Midnight’s hull as he charged through the swarm and latched her teeth onto Blue’s throat, sinking them in through the still-visible seam he’d left in their last fight.

“Remember me?” he snarled, wrenching Midnight’s head to the side and feeling a spike of vicious satisfaction when Blue’s armour rent against his Jackal’s fangs. He let her go, and fired the grav-gun again to make sure her systems were still down before going in claws-first. Her belly split open even easier than it had before, poorly patched gashes splitting at the first swipe as she vented atmosphere. He gritted his teeth and dove Midnight in again, sinking her teeth into a shoulder join and kicking at the head with her back legs.

A chill swept through him like someone else’s agony, and he smiled wider. She was hurting? _Good_. She’d abandoned him like all the others, given him up when she’d once told him he was _hers_ like it meant something. Like it had been important. Like he had been important. How stupid he’d been, to believe her.

Heat dripped down his cheeks, his breaths coming shorter as he pulled back and readied Midnight’s mouth laser. “Goodbye, Blue.” he hissed, his voice coming out thick and choked as his finger tightened on the trigger.

“Quiznack!” Orshan’s shout in his ear jolted him, his hand spasming on Midnight’s control as Blue finally regained its wits and dove away from him.

“What’s wrong?” Kyrin asked, and Lance gritted his teeth as he twisted to find his target again.

“Yellow’s got me pinned.” Orshan grunted, and Lance spun Midnight to face his second pilot.

“Where’s Green?”

“Got past.” Orshan made a muffled little sound as Omoz got shouldered hard by the Yellow Lion. “They were headed for the factory!”

“But Green doesn’t have the firepower to-” Lance gasped as the realization hit him, his eyes flying open. “Kyrin, you have the conn.” he jammed Midnight’s controls forward, shooting for the hangar doors.

“Where are you going?!”

“To stop the Green Paladin from stealing my next pilot.” he snarled, skidding Midnight to a halt in the hangar. The Green Lion was here, and the urge to destroy it was immense, but its shields were up and anything Midnight was packing that could get through those also ran the risk of catching the not-yet-evacuated construction hangar in the blast radius. Lotor would probably make him take every attachment on the machine in a row if he wrecked the in-progress Jackals again. No, Green could wait for the time being. He’d take down her Paladin first, and see if there wasn’t anything Orshan could do to sway them to his side.

It’d have to be different from Matt and Kyrin’s treatments, of course- Pidge was too young for him to consider in that light, even if they’d had an interest in anyone- but if Orshan could break Matt, xie could break Pidge. He drew his sword from its sheath, and lowered the filter on his mask. Time to bag Orshan another test subject.


	38. Chapter 38

Pidge tensed at the appearance of a dark purple-blue dot on the super-short-range radar they’d installed in their suit, biting down on the edges of their tongue to keep silent. A live soldier, not a sentry. They contemplated using one of the localised EMP detonators anyways, but quickly dismissed the idea. It’d knock out their system as well, and being in an Imperial base without a way to call for backup was just asking for trouble. No, they’d have to do this the old fashioned way.

The approaching footsteps quickened as they summoned their bayard, and Pidge spun on their heel as they materialised their shield, bringing it up to block the sword aimed at their- shoulder? Fuck, Lotor wanted to take them alive. He probably wanted to do to them what he’d done to Lance, what he was likely in the process of doing to Matt. Fat fucking chance. The gritted their teeth and shifted their footing, pulling their shield back in towards their body far enough that the soldier in a blackened version of Lotor’s Generals’ armour stumbled forwards as his sword slipped free. Pidge moved quickly, stepping in closer before the soldier could bring his sword up again, and slammed their shield in his face.

“Howd’ya like that?” they grinned as the soldier reeled back, hand rising to touch their druidic mask. No, not soldier, pilot. Their uniform, head to toe, was the same as Lance’s had been when he stood at Lotor’s side during that video call. This must be one of the others who worked for Lotor, flying those canine Voltron knockoffs.

“Not as much as I’ll like this.” he growled in Galran, and Pidge yelped as the pilot pulled a rifle from his back and sprayed the ground at their feet with a rapid burst of energy bolts. They jumped back, raising their shield to better guard their vital organs, but when they looked up from their feet the pilot was nowhere to be seen. Until their feet went out from under them, and they hit the floor with a grunt to see him rolling to his feet with an inhuman grace.

“Cheap shot.” they grunted, energising their bayard and lashing out at his ankles. He jumped back, but their blade shot out on its energy cord and tagged him on the ankle. He yelped, jumping on his uninjured foot, and Pidge scrambled to their feet.

“You fight without honour.” the pilot snarled, and Pidge shrugged.

“You’re not really worth it.” they fired back, and the galra rushed them with a roar. They lifted their shield, and staggered back when the pilot shoulder slammed into it shoulder first. Damn, he was heavier than he looked! They yielded ground freely as e kept pushing, letting him force them deeper into the station, closer to the labs and prisoner cells. “You’re kinda a one-trick pony aren’t you?” they huffed, forcing down the chill that threatened to freeze them when they met the eyes of his mask.

“Foolish Paladin.” he spat, and charged again. Pidge raised their shield, and suddenly he wasn’t in front of them. They started to turn, but a loud crack and sharp pain in their head aborted that, the blow to their helmet sending them sprawling on the floor. Their shield deactivated, bayard falling from their hand, and they could only groan as the galra turned them onto their back with his foot, pulling their hand away from their bayard in the process.

The pod time for this was going to suck _major_ ass.

“You should be thanking me, really.” the galra gloated, resting the muzzle of his gun against their visor. “After my druid is done with xir work, you’ll never be separated from your brother again.”

“Matt?” they coughed as the gun barrel drifted down towards their chest.

“For now.” the galra shrugged. “Might convince him to change it, once we’re done.” he tilted his head slightly, and Pidge got the feeling he was smiling at them behind the mask. “Maybe I’ll change your name too. Make the pair of you a proper matched set.”

Had the stakes been any lower, Pidge probably would’ve rolled their eyes. Their brother was here and alive, that was all they’d needed to know. They closed their left hand around the grip of their bayard, and activated the weapon as they brought it up to stab the galra in the leg. He spasmed, green lightning crackling over his body, and when he dropped Pidge pushed themself up with a low groan. “Fuck that.” they spat, getting to their feet and reaching out to Green. Her presence in their head strengthened, like vines wrapped around an ancient wall, and they felt the fuzziness of their concussion fading. They’d still need pod time later, but for now they were fine.

“This is for whatever you’ve done to my brother.” they huffed, stomping over to the fallen galra and bringing their heel down on his crotch. He spasmed, letting out a garbled sound of pain, and they walked over to his head. “And _this_ -” they drew their foot back and kicked him in the head. “Is to make sure you don’t get any bright ideas about stopping me.” they were tempted to dismiss their visor to spit on him, but discarded that idea in favour of continuing down the hall. Matt had to be here somewhere, if that pilot was involved in his torture. And if the druids were working on him, then that meant he was alive. Alive and fighting them tooth and nail, more likely than not. He’d survived Imperial captivity before, and he was a Holt to boot.

“Pidge, gimme some good news.” Shiro’s voice came in over their comms, sounding strained.

“Matt’s definitely here.” they said, picking up the pace and letting Green guide their feet. “He’s here, and he’s alive. I just took out a soldier who said they have a druid working on him.”

“A druid?” Keith interjected. “Pidge, be careful. He might-”

“He’s my _brother_.” they cut Keith off sharply, turning at a nudge from Green and coming face to face with a door bearing something their program could only translate into gibberish. “Hey, Allura, does the word Orshan mean anything to you?”

“No.” Allura grunted, sounding more pained than usual. “I believe- that it’s a name.” she paused to draw a breath in the middle, and Pidge decided not to ask. As long as she got back to the castle alive, she’d be fine.

“Worth a shot.” they muttered, and pulled a cable from their vambrace. Tripping a false positive on the bio-lock was easy, but taking in what the door revealed was far less so. The room looked like a twisted version of a doctor’s office, with a straight-backed chair in the middle instead of one of those paper covered ones. They barely noticed that, though, because their attention was immediately drawn by the figure strapped into the chair. His hair was even messier than usual, his eyes unfocused and mouth hanging open, and on top of that he was naked.

“Well?” Keith asked, and Pidge looked around quickly for something, anything they could use to cover Matt up.

“I found him.” they reported. “He’s alive, but out of it. I’ll call you back when we’re in Green.”

“Hurry.” Shiro ordered, and they gave a sharp nod as they flicked their comms into standby mode. There was a cloak hung on one of the walls that worked well enough to make Matt decent, and once they’d sliced open the cuffs with their bayard Pidge pulled him out of the seat with a grunt.

“C’mon, Matt.” they muttered, slinging his arm around their shoulders. “Let’s get you home.”

He groaned softly, and swayed on his feet, but staggered forwards at their side. Green laid a dimly glowing line down over the station schematics they had up in their HUD, tracing the fastest route back to her, and Pidge sent their Lion a burst of gratitude. They just had to get Matt back to the castle, and then Hunk and Keith and Shiro could wreck this place and they could leave. Nice and simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this chapter’s fight was initially meant to happen back in chapter 31, with the fic’s resolution coming almost immediately after. But, thanks to my buddies in the dumpster fire, you get another, oh, 10 chapters or so?


	39. Chapter 39

Of course, actually _getting out of_ the base was anything but simple. Even with Voltron itself knocking on their door, there were whole squads of sentries patrolling the corridors. Too many for them to take down with their bayard before one called for backup, especially since Matt was in no condition to defend himself. And of course, Green didn’t have the sentry patrols on her drive, so she’d just plotted them the shortest route back. Which happened to involve plenty of detouring and doubling back to avoid being spotted. The rover-like drones that bobbed in the occasional intersection didn’t help matters, nor did the incredible urge to bring one down and make a Rover 2.0.

But, much as they’d love to have a little robot friend again, they couldn’t spare the time with Matt in his current state. The faster they got him back to the castle for Allura to take a look at, the faster he could be back to himself. Pidge froze at the sight of sentries rounding the corner, and looked frantically for somewhere to hide. The doors were just numbered here, there was no way of knowing what was behind them, but getting through one was their best shot. They slapped their hand to the nearest operation panel, and dragged Matt through the door that opened in response. It shut behind them a second later, and Pidge slumped back against the purple metal with a heavy sigh as they listened to metal feet marching past.

They let Matt slide down to sit on the floor, and pressed a hand to their breastplate. They needed a sentry schedule, or a way to disable the damn things, or they’d never make it back to Green. Pushing up to their feet, Pidge stilled as they took in the room they’d ducked into. It was a bedroom, and a rather nice one at that. The bed was bigger than their own, back on the castle, and there was space for a weird lumpy bench with a blanket over it along with three mannequins. One of the three was empty, the one next to it bore red armour with Lotor’s symbol, and the third-

Their breath caught in their throat, tears welling in their eyes. The third mannequin displayed armour that matched their own, dusty and damaged but still unmistakable. The door. They turned and stared at it, where Matt leaned up against the metal with that awful, blank look on his face. The door had opened at their touch, despite the fact that they didn’t have galra DNA, and they were more than smart enough to put two and two together. The door, the armour, the pilot they’d fought who was far shorter than any galran soldier they’d ever met.

“Lance.” they breathed, heart skipping a beat in their chest. He was here. He was _alive_. He was alive and they’d stomped on his dick. Pidge winced at the last realisation, and shook themself back to the present. They had to get out of here, and they had to do it with two passengers. “Hunk, I need a favour.” they said, squaring their shoulders.

\---

Pidge grunted with effort as they hauled Lance’s still-unconscious body up Green’s mouth ramp, straining to move him at even a normal walking pace. “How’d you get so _heavy_?” they complained, finally getting a foot inside the airlock. Dragging him over a flat surface was, at the very least, marginally easier than dragging him up a slope, but they’d only made it a few steps past the inner airlock door before Matt made a noise of fear. Pidge froze, and for a moment thought they locked eyes with their brother. Then they realized he was staring at Lance’s face next to theirs.

Lance’s face, still covered by the druidic mask.

“It’s okay.” they said quickly, laying Lance down on the floor just inside the airlock. “Matt, it’s okay. It’s just Lance.”

Thankfully that seemed to relax him somewhat, and Pidge grinned at him. “I gotta get Green back to the castle, so you keep an eye on him, alright?” they crossed the little room-ish area around the ladder to give Matt’s shoulder a squeeze. “Yell for me if he wakes up.”

Matt’s head bobbed in what might’ve been a nod, and he fixed his eyes on Lance, his gaze focused but still disturbingly vacant. Pidge shook off the unease that filled them at the sight, and instead scaled the ladder, hurrying into Green’s cockpit and vaulting into the pilot’s seat. “Alright, girl.” they gripped the controls, dropping Green’s shield. “Let’s blow this joint.”

Green rose to her feet, and Pidge blinked as the dog-like ship between them and the exit... sank down to the floor. Was it powering down? they frowned, and glanced over their shoulder at the door to the hallway, beneath which Lance was lying unconscious. He couldn’t possibly be communicating with his comet ship like that, and yet, it was moving, bowing its head to Green.

“Pidge, would it kill you to hurry up?” Hunk snapped over the comms, and Pidge startled slightly.

“It’s Midnight. The knockoff Black Lion. It’s between me and the exit.”

“So take it down!” Keith butted in.

“I think-” Pidge blinked, Green’s presence in their mind suddenly feeling like a hundred ton tree fallen across their shoulders. “I think it wants to die.”

“Then kill it.” Shiro said, his voice firm. “Damage it badly enough Lotor can’t use it ever again.”

“Understood.” Pidge nodded, and the weight across their shoulders lightened to something more like a heavy cloak of vines. “I’ll make it quick.” they promised the ship before them, and it rolled onto its side, baring itself to Green’s claws. Their heart beat harder in their chest, throat tightening as the pushed Green forwards. This felt wrong, Green didn’t want to do it, but Shiro had ordered it. Lotor couldn’t be allowed to find a new pilot for the head of his knockoff Voltron. They activated Green’s jaw blade, and shut their eyes as they lunged her head forwards to decapitate the knockoff.

The weight over their shoulders vanished, and they sucked in a breath as they belatedly realized they’d stopped. “It’s done.” they said as Green stepped over the severed head.

“Alright.” Shiro’s voice filled their ears as Green leapt out of the hangar and back into the fray. “Everyone, disengage and fall back! We’ve got what we came for.”

“And then some.” Hunk laughed, and Pidge found themself smiling. It felt like a lifetime, since they’d heard Hunk laugh like that.

“Hey, Hunk. I’ll need you to meet me in Green’s hangar, once we land.” they said into their mic. “Lance weighs a freaking ton, and I’ve gotta get Matt in a pod.”

“No problem.” Hunk’s beaming smile was audible, and Pidge relaxed back in their seat as they sent Green into invisible mode and peeled away from their initial trajectory, cleanly losing the fighters on their tail. After months and months of mourning Lance’s loss, of having the wound reopened every time they formed Voltron without him, of struggling through battles that Voltron should’ve been able to win without breaking a sweat... They’d been due for this. Due for a win, clean and simple and unequivocable.

“I’m gonna smack him so hard, when he wakes up.” Keith huffed, but Pidge could hear him smiling.

“Keith, no.” Shiro chastised, but Pidge could tell hs heart wasn’t in it.

“He’s got it coming!” Keith protested. “We thought he was dead _twice_!”

“At least let him explain himself first.” Shiro said, but his attempt at being stern was sorta ruined by the chuckle that coloured his words. They’d won, today. Destroyed Lotor’s hope of creating a rival to Voltron, stolen Matt back from druid hands, and recovered their lost teammate in the bargain.

“Feels nice to win again.” they said, and basked in the agreement that came flooding in over the comms. Hopefully, now that Lance was back, they’d get to win more often again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> starting tomorrow, I'll only be updating once a day. I've just got too many other things on my plate rn to keep churning out two chapters daily.


	40. Chapter 40

Lance groaned, turning over to press his face into the pillow under his head. His pounding, aching head that very much did not agree with the quintessence-light seeping in through his eyelids. He buried his face deeper in the pillow, and stilled as the rest of his senses caught up. This wasn’t his pillow. This wasn’t his bed. He pushed himself up, eyes flying open, and was nearly blinded by the crystal blue light that surrounded him.

This was bad.

He scrambled to his feet, or tried to, the blanket around him tangling in his legs and sending him crashing to the floor. He groaned into the cool metal, and pushed himself up again, looking down at the instrument of his demise. A blanket, dark dull blue, which looked like it had been neatly wrapped around him before he tried to move. So his captors would hear when he woke up, maybe? He frowned, twisting to sit up as he wriggled free of the warm restraint, but after a few seconds he went still and let the blanket puddle in his lap.

That he wasn’t wearing his armour was far from a surprise, but the clothes which had been put on over his flight suit certainly were. They were loose, almost floaty, the fabric a vivid blue with heavy golden borders. More than that, though, they were _familiar_. He lifted a hand to touch the tunic, feeling how little resistance it offered as he pinched and rubbed a bit of it between his fingers. Soft as silk, just as they’d been the last time he wore them, before the Paladins sacrificed him.

He looked up, and if he squinted a little he could make out more of his surroundings than the blinding crystal blue light that emanated from the walls and floor and ceiling. He rose to his feet, careful to let the blanket fall away entirely, and stepped towards the wall. One pace from the bed, two... there. He palmed over the sensor to open the normal closet door, and his breath caught in his throat as it opened to reveal one of the few things he’d truly missed on Lotor’s ship. He pulled his jacket free of the hanger as fast as he could while still being careful, and buried his face in the worn fabric. His throat tightened, eyes burning, and he sank to his knees as he clutched his jacket closer, drawing deep ragged breaths through the layered canvas and cotton.

It still smelled like home. Even so far from Earth, so long after leaving, he could still smell the sea salt which had settled in the seams, and it brought the ever-present homesickness crashing over him in full. Mami, Mamá, Amalia and Fernanda and Vivian and Salome and Isidora, he missed all of them like a hole in his chest.

A fresh pang from behind his heart gave him pause, and he slowly lowered his jacket as a cold numbness swept over him. He reached out, and fear curdled heavy in his gut when he felt nothing. “Midnight?” he whispered, eyes watering anew as no gravity pulse answered him. “Please.” he choked out, but the yawning void where she was meant to be only swallowed his words in frigid emptiness. He sniffled, tears overflowing down his cheeks. Lotor would be furious, so furious, but he couldn’t bring himself to care more than in passing. Midnight, his partner, was _dead_. No punishment of Lotor’s could possibly hurt more than that.

It felt like forever before his tears ran dry, but even after they did Lance remained curled up on the floor of his old room turned cell. Eventually, he forced himself to his feet and shuffled towards the bathroom, but the motions were robotic. He cleaned and dried his face, erasing the evidence of his weakness, but couldn’t manage even the most hollow of smiles. He turned to shuffle back out of the bathroom, and paused as a flash of purple ignited in the corner of his eye.

It couldn’t be.

He turned back towards what he vaguely remembered to be the towel rack, and a smile split his face at the sight of galran purple. He grabbed his helmet first, jamming that on his head, and sighed in relief as the quintessence light winked out. A shelf below where his helmet had sat, the rest of his armour was neatly stacked on the rack. His sword and gun were nowhere to be seen, but he wasn’t particularly surprised. Even Voltron wasn’t stupid enough to leave a prisoner’s weapons lying around their cell.

Being left his armour wasn’t something he’d expected either, but he supposed a group that put him in PJs and tried to restrain him with a blanket wasn’t going to do much in a sensible manner. He stripped out of the altean sleepwear, donning his armour instead, and relaxed slightly as his cuirass clicked shut over his ribs. The weight of his armour was comforting, a reminder of Lotor’s trust in him, but no sooner had he thought that than he remembered that he’d broken that trust. Midnight was dead, and this armour of his, the training and team-building he’d done with his team, everything he’d done in the past few months was worth nothing.

Lotor was going to be furious.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands to his mask, sinking to his knees. He could fix this. He could _fix_ this. He’d lost his connection with Blue once, when Haggar drained Voltron with that quintessence sucker. As long as he got back to Midnight, he could bring their bond back. He could do this, he could salvage this. Lotor would still be pissed but if Lance could get Midnight working again he’d at least have _some_ good news to offer his emperor.

He rose shakily to his feet, leaning slightly on the wall, and took stock of himself again. His head hurt like a bitch, his crotch was throbbing dully, and his limbs ached, but it was nothing he couldn’t work with. He straightened up as he walked out of the bathroom, and grabbed his jacket from where he’d left it on the bed. A quick root through the normal closet turned up a drawstring bag, and he carefully folded his jacket before sliding it in. He was less careful with the rest of the clothes he pulled out of the cleaning closet, only wadding them up enough to be able to fit everything in the small bag, and once it was cinched shut he slung it over his shoulders.

According to the display on his HUD it’d only been a bit over a varga since the attack on the station, which meant Matt was probably still in a cryo-pod. He just had to get down to the cryo-pod chamber, get Matt out, and get them both in a shuttle. From there he could get them both home to Midnight, to Lotor, and he could fix this. He unthinkingly pressed his hand to the operation panel next to the door, and did a double take when it actually slid open. Not only had they left him his armour, they didn’t even lock the door? That didn’t add up at all.

He headed for the elevator, and the operation panel lit up under his fingers when he tapped it. The doors opened a few seconds later, and he paused as he reached for the panel that was blinking to remind him he needed to pick a floor to go to. He should leave as fast as possible, grab Matt and get back to Lotor to do damage control, but... when would he have this opportunity again?

He gritted his teeth, and selected the bridge as his destination. He had to know.


	41. Chapter 41

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the bridge, exactly as he remembered it right down to the unrefined crystal hanging over the control console. Right down to the figures in colourful armour standing beneath it, discussing something in low voices. Lance gritted his teeth as Coran looked up, his fingers itching to wrap around the grip of his rifle or hilt of his sword, but then the old altean did something he hadn’t expected. He smiled.

“Lance! You’re up!” Coran exclaimed, pulling free of the Paladins and rushing over to grip his shoulders. “How’s your head feel, Number Three?”

Lance opened his mouth, but before he could decide if he was going to answer or ask a question of his own the Paladins were on him. Hunk’s arms wrapped around him tight, lifting him clear off the floor, and he tensed for a moment before he realized he was being hugged. Hunk was _hugging him_ , and the rest of the Paladins were gathered up around him with smiles and hopeful expressions.

“I’m sorry I tased you.” Pidge blurted as soon as his feet were back on the ground. “And for, uh, everything else in that fight.”

“What?” Lance blinked, looking from Pidge to the other Paladins. Had he even woken up?

“Oh!” they straightened up, eyes shining. “I’ll be _right_ back.” Pidge extricated themself from the clump of Paladins and dashed for the elevator, cutting off any hopes he might’ve had of escaping this increasingly weird situation.

“I owe you a good smack for letting us think you died _twice_.” Keith huffed, but he smiled a little anyways. “Things were so weird after... after.” he looked away, but before Lance could ask what the hell he was talking about Shiro clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s good to have you back.” he smiled fondly, and something in Lance snapped.

“Then why did you give me away in the first place?” he spat, pulling free of Hunk’s embrace and stepping back to put some distance between them.

“What?” Allura frowned, and Lance gritted his teeth.

“Don’t play dumb, Princess.” he spat her title like poison, and felt a brief swell of vindictive satisfaction when she recoiled slightly. “Chephin Five, the Jutreize prince?”

“Lance.” she said slowly, stepping towards him. “We would never give you away.”

“No.” he shook his head, a humourless laugh slipping past his lips. “No, no. You don’t get to play innocent. You sacrificed me to the druids.” he raised a hand to point at Allura, who’d frozen with a look of sheer horror on her face at being called out. Good. “You handed me over to your worst enemies so you could have the Blue Lion to yourself.” he dropped his hand, fingers clenching in a fist. “I don’t need your excuses, I just need to know _why_.” his throat tightened, and he forced himself to breathe deep and even, to keep his head up even as hot tears welled in his eyes.

Fuck, why was he tearing up? They hated him, they’d always hated him, he didn’t need their approval or their pity or their anything. He was better than them now, Lotor had made him better, had gotten the chance to do that because of their mistake. But still, the question had been gnawing at him for months now.

“Lance, we didn’t- we would never-”

“Don’t patronise me, Shiro.” he snapped, his voice coming out thick. “I’m not the useless idiot you got rid of anymore. In fact, I don’t even _care_ that you got rid of me, because if you hadn’t I never would’ve gotten where I am now. I just-” his voice hitched, and he did his best to swallow the lump in his throat. “I just want to know why. What did I do to make you hate me so much you’d give me to the druids in exchange for the alliance of a single worthless planet?” his breath shuddered, and he clenched his fists tighter as he blinked back tears.

“Just- just tell me that and I’ll leave. I’ll take my pilot, and leave, and you guys will have plenty of time to wormhole away from here so Lotor can’t come murder you for stealing me and-” he paused, swallowing hard. “And killing Midnight.”

“Lance.” Hunk spoke up, shouldering past Allura and stopping just barely outside of his bubble of personal space. “You sacrificed yourself. We tried to stop you but-” tears welled in his eyes, his lower lip quivering, and Lance hated the pang of regret that shot through his chest knowing he was the cause of that expression. He should be happy that Hunk was sad, happy that one of his tormentors was feeling a fraction of what he’d felt at their hands.

“Pidge has been beating themself up for _months_ that they weren’t fast enough to save you.” Keith added, his voice sharp. “We’ve barely been able to form Voltron!”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh. “Nice try, mullet, but I remember what happened.”

“Do you?” Allura asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Of course.”

“May I-” she stepped forward again, hands raised, and Lance backed away.

“No.” he shook his head. There were only two people allowed in his head, and Princess Allura was neither of them.

“I promise, I’ll do no harm.” she said, looking so damn earnest it was hard to remember that she _must_ be lying. “I only wish to look at your memory of the day we lost you.”

He hesitated, and slowly shifted his gaze to meet hers. The pink and blue of her eyes wasn’t hypnotic like lotor’s gold and blue, but it was hard to look away from all the same. “I’ll know if you break your word.” he said at least, looking aside. “And if you do, know that nothing in this or any other universe will stop me from breaking every bone in your body.”

“Alteans don’t have bones, actually.” Allura grinned, and lifted her hands to grip his helmet. Her presence in his mind was nothing like Narti’s familiar whisper and deft touch, or the quiet susurration and hesitant brush of Orshan’s magic the few times he’d let her in to deepen their bond during a loyalty session. Allura in his head felt like being wrapped in fluff made of quintessence light, overwhelming and impossible to think through, like drowning in his own mind. A sharp, hot slice of agony cut from the center of his head back, and he jerked away from Allura with a cry of pain. His eyes flew open, a growl already building in his throat, but before he could regain his balance the searing heat vanished, replaced by equally searing cold.

A cold as deep as the void of space, as enveloping as the ocean closing over his head, as familiar as the air in his lungs.

The chill shot down his neck and curled behind his heart, between his lungs, filling the spot where Midnight had rested just earlier today. She roared in his head, the crash of waves loud enough to drown out everything else, and he staggered back another few steps as her chill wrapped around him, unmistakably possessive. Fresh tears welled in his eyes, and he turned to the elevator. He had to get out of here.

The doors opened before he could even touch the operation panel, and he shoved past Pidge to shut them from the inside, slumping against the wall as it began moving down. He was cold, so cold he was nearly numb from it, and even without gravity powers he felt heavier than ever before. When the doors opened to a towering hallway he stumbled out into it, his legs moving without conscious thought, as if his body wasn’t even his own anymore.

face hurt, he realized belatedly. His cheeks ached from the force of his smile, and the silence was only broken by his stumbling footsteps and sporadic, near hysterical giggles. The cold around him seemed to pull, a riptide urging him faster, and when he stepped into the hangar proper a strangled noise left his throat that could’ve been a sob or a sound of distress. She was sprawled on her side, throat and belly torn open, but her eyes glowed bright as she reeled him in and he was helpless to resist.

He reached out to her, hesitating only a heartbeat before laying his hand on her nose, and the cold drew closer around him, full of more possessiveness and joy and _love_ than he’d felt in so, so long. A sob wrenched itself from his throat, and he sank to his knees, pressing his head to her metal skin. “I’m sorry.” he hiccupped, tears finally welling over and tracing hot tracks down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

The roaring water in his head quieted to the familiar shush of waves on a sandy shore, comforting, and he sobbed again as the cold he’d never let himself admit he missed wound itself even tighter around him, pressing through his armour and into his skin. “Why?” he choked out, spreading his hand flat against her muzzle. “Why did you leave me?”

The waves echoing in his head turned mournful, and his chest filled with the frozen mist of her grief, her regret that she’d not been able to find him. He squeezed his eyes shut as she poured her feelings into him, the sense-memory of his presence rapidly fading to a distant thing before snuffing out entirely, of her panic and disbelief, her refusal to consider him dead and gone. Another sob wrenched itself from his throat, and she shifted under his hand, tilting her head back to bare her throat. Her throat that he’d torn out, that he’d _enjoyed_ tearing out because he’d thought she abandoned him.

“I’m so sorry.” he repeated hoarsely, swaying to his feet and letting her pull him forwards, through the mutilated metal into the hallway he knew so well. He made it to the cockpit door before she rolled over, the pressure-burst metal which had formed the bottom of her cargo hold scraping loud against the hangar floor. The door opened for him, and he staggered forwards as she pulled harder than before, dragging him by his very soul to collapse in her pilot’s seat. The chill swelled around him, and a wet laugh slipped free of his lips as he curled in on himself.

“You’re making a mistake.” he whispered, his voice rough and far smaller than it had any right to be.

Her disagreement washed through him like ice-melt in his veins, vehement and unshakable. He was hers, and no other.

“I hated you.” he croaked, more tears dripping from his chin to land on his thighs. “I hated you so much, because if I hated you I couldn’t miss you.” another sob pulled free of his throat, and he curled his legs up to his chest, burying his face in his knees. He’d never even let himself think it before, never let himself consider why he’d never felt as close to Midnight as he had to her.

The cold around him deepened, sinking into his bones, and when he inhaled it tasted like the air after a snowfall, like the warm sea breeze, like the top of the Garrison pool’s high dive. Her presence filled him, cold and clean and familiar, and he curled in on himself tighter, though if he was leaning into or away from her embrace even Lance couldn’t’ve said. Her embrace, her cockpit, it felt like coming home but he was so different now.

“I don’t deserve this.” he whispered. “I don’t deserve you.”

The tidal tug at his chest pulled him back against the seat more firmly, and he didn’t need any kind of translator to know that the accompanying sound meant that decision wasn’t his to make.


	42. Chapter 42

Lance staggered away from Allura with a cry of unmistakable pain, and Shiro stepped forwards with one hand already reaching out. “Lance! What’s-” Allura grabbed him before he could follow any further, and when he shot her a questioning look she just shook his head. Lance stumbled a few more steps back, jaw falling open in shock before his breaths quickened and he turned to run.

“Lance!” Hunk reached for him, but Lance moved too fast, shouldering past Pidge as they stepped out of the elevator. The doors slid shut, and for a second they all just stared at the spot where their friend had just been.

“I’ll put the shuttle bay on lockdown.” Coran broke the silence, pulling up a screen to do just that. “He won’t be leaving the castle.”

“Lock down the Blue Lion’s hangar as well.” Allura straightened up slightly, and all eyes turned to her.

“What did you do to him?” Keith asked, fingers twitching like he wanted to grab his bayard or his knife.

“I found out what Lotor had done to him.” Allura answered diplomatically. “His brain is full of druid magic, woven far too deeply and intricately for me to remove. They’ve tampered with his memories.” her shoulders tensed, hands curling into barely-shaking fists at her sides, and Shiro placed a hand on her shoulder.

“And looking at his memories hurt him?” Keith challenged. Allura shook her head.

“That was me fixing the one thing I could. They sealed his bond to the Blue Lion so she could not find him.” she paused to take a deep breath, exhale, and meet each of their eyes. “I’ve given Blue back to him.”

“So Lance is _back_ back?” Pidge beamed, clutching a lumpy bag to their chest.

“Not quite.” Allura shook her head again. “Right now, the druids’ tampering is colouring his every action. He is not the Lance we lost.”

“But Blue took him back, right?” Hunk’s eyes were wide and still slightly watery. “So that means he’s gotta be in there somewhere. Like, under the magic?”

“Possibly.” Allura nodded, and Shiro gave her shoulder a squeeze before letting his hand fall.

“Alright. Coran, where’s Lance right now?”

“In the Blue Lion.” he answered immediately.

“Tell us when he gets out, or if he tries to leave.” he told the advisor, then turned to the rest of his team. “In the meantime, now that Pidge’s concussion is dealt with, the rest of us are due for a debrief.” a chorus of grumbles met his statement, and he grinned as he ushered them towards the elevator.

The elevator which didn’t open when he touched the operation panel, because Lance had ridden it all the way down to the Lion hangars. Whoops.

“Shiro, just this once could we skip the debrief?” Pidge half whined, looking up at him with those huge brown eyes that were so much like Matt’s.

“I promise we’ll be done before Matt’s out of his pod.” he assured them, resting a hand on their head. “Protocol is important.”

“But it is kinda boring.” Hunk pointed out as the elevator doors finally opened and they all filed in.

“Protocol tends to be.” he agreed, letting Allura pick out the proper floor on the operation panel. “But having a complete record is important for future reference.” there was some more grumbling, and out of the corner of his eye Shiro saw Allura crack a smile. Relief and horror crashed through him at once, freezing his answering smile before his lips could do more than twitch.

With Lance back, even twisted by druid magic, he had no doubt that Allura would be able to relax again. To smile, to _feel_ in a way she’d not allowed herself to do when the team needed a pillar to lean on. That was good, great even, that she would no longer have to shoulder Lance’s absence. But that pressure- and, he was adult enough to admit, bad coping mechanisms on both their parts- had been what pushed them together close enough for this fragile, yet-unnamed thing to begin growing between them. Now that Lance was back, now that that pressure was gone, would things between them go back to how they’d been before?

He wasn’t naive enough to think that everything would return to normal, not when Lance had been broken down by the druids and rebuilt into someone apparently loyal to Lotor, but things would certainly begin to shift back into place. Relief was practically a palpable thing in the air already, the sigh of a new gear being slotted into a well-worn mechanism, not yet a perfect fit but infinitely better than struggling to limp along without it. Only, he couldn’t feel as properly relieved as the rest of the team. Not due to any worry that Lance might be a spy or somehow lead Lotor to them or anything reasonable like that. No, his worry was stupid and selfish and-

Allura’s knuckles brushed against his, jolting him from his thoughts, and he turned his head slightly to see her smiling at him. She looked forward again as soon as they made eye contact, but shifted her weight slightly so the back of her hand pressed against his, the tips of her fingers slipping between his own. He quickly faced forward as well, and a small smile pulled at his lips. If nothing else, he and Allura would stay close friends. And who knew, perhaps with Lance’s return taking some of the weight off her shoulders they’d have enough room to see if this thing between them went any further than friendship.

The elevator door opened onto the hallway of their target floor, and he stepped aside with an easy hand gesture. “After you, Princess.”

“Thank you.” she smiled at him, and breezed out of the elevator with all the grace expected of someone of her station. He waved the others after her, and fell in at the back next to Hunk.

“So, you and Allura?” the Yellow Paladin asked.

“We’ll see.” he shrugged, but couldn’t quite tamp down his smile.


	43. Chapter 43

When Lance finally managed to uncurl himself and sit properly in Blue’s seat, he felt... not quite empty but definitely drained, exhausted despite having been unconscious for almost an hour not too long ago. Blue stayed wrapped around him, little chills running over his skin, up and down like a soothing hand stroking gently down his back, along his limbs, across his cheekbones. The last was accompanied by a flutter of worry, a mental image of himself the first time he’d approached her, wide-eyed and ignorant of what he was pulling them all into.

“I’m fine.” he assured her, his stomach turning as she compared that first look at him with a sense-mapped image of his face now. Blue didn’t seem to believe him, but didn’t press, instead tugging his hand over the arm of the chair. He followed the gentle urges, the sensation of ice skittering over his fingers, until his hand curled around a grip so familiar it nearly knocked the air from his lungs. He lifted the blue bayard, and a breathless laugh stuttered past his lips. It energised before he’d even fully wondered if it would, and he caught the barrel in his free hand, automatically weighing the weapon. It was lighter than he remembered, sleeker, closer to the build of rifle his back holster was designed to accommodate.

It looked almost galran.

The thought sobered him, and he deactivated the bayard with a thought. “I shouldn’t-”

Blue cut him off with a low rumble, and his eyes slid shut as she pressed her memories into his mind. The first was vague, indistinct visually but charged with emotions so sharp and vivid he half expected to cut himself on them somehow. Confusion as his signature grew faint with distance, followed by fear as it winked out entirely. More fear as Allura walked into the hangar, bayard in her hands, blending into disbelief as she spoke. Disbelief turning to anger, to desperation, before finally settling as heavy grief that weighed down every one of her limbs more than the greatest gravity could ever hope to.

sorry.” he breathed, and Blue’s presence tightened around him, accompanied by a sound, a sensation, that he could only translate as a claim of ownership. _Mine._

The next memory wavered into view, colours muted and viewpoint lower than before, Blue’s head resting listlessly on the hangar floor. Allura stood before her, looking down at the bayard in her hands. “Lance is dead.” she said, her voice thick and rough. “This is all that was left.” she held out the bayard, and it floated from her hands, drawn in by Blue somehow. “He was-” Allura’s voice and shoulders shook, her head still bowed, stray strands of hair slipping to hang in front of her shoulders. “He was a hero. A true Paladin. He placed the completion of the mission, preserving the life of a civilian, above even his own life. You chose him well.”

The image rippled and hazed, and when it settled again Allura was gone. Nobody stood in her place, but two figures were curled against Blue’s paw by her head. Hunk’s shoulders shook, his nose running something awful as he tried and failed to quiet his sobs. At his side was Pidge, looking paler than usual with puffy red-rimmed eyes and tear tracks on their cheeks. Smaller than usual, too, with Lance’s jacket pulled around them, thin fingers clutching at the fabric even in their sleep. There were no words, but Hunk’s ragged sobs pierced Lance like a bullet through his heart.

“Why?” he croaked, curling in on himself again, pressing his palms to his helmet. Blue didn’t answer, but the memory rippled again, Hunk and Pidge fading to be replaced by Shiro, standing where Allura had stood with one hand on Blue’s barrier.

“It’s okay.” he said, his voice soft and thick with tears. “Take your time.” he stroked the barrier, and Lance felt Blue’s distress rumbling out of his own chest. “We miss him too.” Shiro knelt, keeping a hand on the translucent shield. “I think-” his voice hitched, and he lifted his free hand to rub at his eyes. “I think, even if you did find another pilot, we wouldn’t be able to accept them. Lance isn’t- he wasn’t-” Shiro ducked his head, scrubbing at his face, and exhaled a sharp word that Lance didn’t understand but could guess was a curse.

The image rippled again, Blue sitting up once more but the colours still dim, her shield still up as Allura dismounted the bike that had come to a stop at the edge of her shield. “Open up.” she demanded, slamming her fist into the shield. Blue’s rumble of denial and rejection rumbled in his chest, but Allura wasn’t deterred. “I was your Paladin once, and now I need to be once more.”

Blue growled again, and Allura struck the shield in response. “Open!” she demanded, and Blue roared at her, as clear a rejection as the shield remaining raised. “We need Voltron, and you’re being- being- ugh!” she punched the barrier, and Blue forced open their withered bond to show the Princess her grief. Allura’s shoulders slumped, her fist uncurling as she leaned forward, forehead and palm resting against Blue’s shield. “I miss him too.” she murmured. “He was my friend.”

Blue urged her back to the bridge, to the guns and shields and controls she could use to defend the remaining Paladins, and Allura’s shoulders went taut again. “Lance was my friend.” she said firmly. “His death was tragic, but I refuse to let it be the reason I lose the rest of my friends today.” she lifted her head to meet Blue’s eyes, her gaze hard as steel. “We need Voltron.” she said with as much authority as Lance had ever heard from her. “We need _you_.”

Lance’s breath stuck in his chest with the force of Blue’s desperate denial, her short and futile attempt to resist the truth, and his limbs ached when she lowered herself to let Allura in, joints loudly protesting their first movement in what felt like an age. Still, even in the face of the inevitable, Blue was reluctant. The shield came down slowly, her internal lights activated only after Allura passed, and when Lance felt Allura’s hands at the Blue’s controls a wave of No swept through him, just as it had swept through Blue then.

The memory faded, and he shivered as Blue’s energy wound around him, the susurration of waves on loose stone in his head sounding all too much like a litany of _mine mine mine_. He shivered, setting the blue bayard back where it had been hanging earlier as he rubbed his arms. They couldn’t’ve really cared that much, though. If they’d cared, they wouldn’t have given him up to the druids. His head throbbed, the pain almost as bad as the ache in his chest, and Blue’s concerned rumble filled him from the core out as another memory flickered across the back of his eyelids.

Hunk, his armour battered and scuffed from a fight, sat against the inside of Blue’s paw with his legs curled up against his chest. His hair was a mess the way it only ever got when he’d been wearing his helmet for too long, and the dark shadows under his eyes spoke to a long, hard mission. “Thanks.” he mumbled as he twisted to rest his cheek against Blue’s armour. Her head tilted in confusion, and Hunk shut his eyes with a sigh. “For not choosing them. Any of them.” he elaborated. “I hate that we have to do this.” his lower lips trembled, tears beading in his eyes. “I just- I want him _back_.”

Blue let out a comforting rumble and crouched down, gently rubbing her nose against Hunk’s shoulder. “I bet you miss him too, don’t you?” he asked, petting at her metal skin. “I wish I knew why he did it.” he sighed, hand stilling as he leaned his forehead against Blue’s nose. “Allura and I could’ve sealed that deal without the prince, but without Lance...” he trailed off, sniffled miserably, leaned harder into Blue. “I don’t want a new Blue Paladin.” he mumbled petulantly. “I just want my friend back.”

Blue’s rumble of agreement was the last thing he felt before the memory faded, and he gasped for breath around the lump in his own throat. The Lions couldn’t lie. The Lions _couldn’t lie_ , which meant- which meant-

A sob pulled from his throat and he buried his forehead in his knees, headache growing worse with each throb of pain as Narti’s magic fought his attempts to recall why the Paladins would cry for him. Why they’d thank Blue for not replacing him with someone better. Why they’d gotten rid of him at all if Allura couldn’t pilot Blue. Why Blue herself had gone along with it, severing their bond only to reopen it now, chaining him to her. Blue’s admonishment rumbled in his chest, deep and primal as a glacier, her energy binding him tighter as if to keep him from being taken again.

Taken. She’d never abandoned him for Allura. She’d _rejected_ Allura. She’d mourned, and the Paladins had mourned. They’d called him a hero, said he sacrificed himself, but he remembered- he remembered- he remembered scraps, suggestions of colour, of emotion, blanks he’d attributed to time and trauma now looming large as he tried to make sense of Blue’s impossible truths. They’d said things to him in that pod, he was sure of it. Remembered Shiro, hand planted on the energy screen locking him in, leaning in close. Remembered Shiro’s fist drawing back to punch, remembered fear and resignation and regret. But he couldn’t remember Shiro’s words, or his tone.

His eyes watered from the stabbing pain in his head, breath coming in fits and starts, gasping sobs that made his throat and chest alike ache with the strain. Why couldn’t he remember? Narti had said- she’d _promised_ \- they were clade, she wouldn’t lie to him, wouldn’t make it hurt so badly when he just wanted to _remember_ -

Shiro’s hand on the energy screen, his face tightly controlled and calm but his shoulders tense, his eyes fearful. No anger, no spite, no smug gloating satisfaction. Only worry, desperation, his eyes flicked to the side and gained a steely resolve as he straightened up, drew his fist back, and drove it into the energy screen like he wanted to reach in and pull Lance out. Like he wanted to save him.

_“Lance, it’s okay.”_

_“I’m getting you out myself.”_

Lance’s eyes snapped open, his headache vanishing as quickly as it had set in as Narti’s magic broke. Lotor had lied to him, he realized with a sickening certainty. He’d lied, and pushed, and twisted Lance until he’d learnt to hate his own friends, his teammates, the closest thing he’d had to family so far from Earth. He’d lied, and he’d used Narti to make Lance believe it when the booster made him too smart to fall for Lotor’s tricks alone. He’d lied, and Lance hadn’t even tried to argue. Had never stood up for himself, for his friends. He’d let Lotor mould him into a monster, into someone who killed without provocation and took pleasure in the pain of others, in the pain of his Lion, his friends.

“I can’t stay.” he rasped, his throat sore from sobbing and eyes prickling for lack of tears to shed. Blue made an argumentative noise, scraps of her memories flicking across the backs of his eyelids when he blinked, a list of reasons why she thought he shouldn’t leave. “They don’t want me.” he shook his head, and Blue growled threateningly. “They don’t! They want _their_ Lance, the one they lost, and that’s not me anymore.” he pressed a hand to his chest, to Lotor’s symbol that he’d worn with _pride_ while attacking innocents. “I’ve done things, Blue. I wasn’t a puppet, I _chose_ to betray Voltron and fight for Lotor.” he’d chosen to subject Matt to torture at the hands of his own personal druid, willingly helped break one of the most brilliant minds he’d ever known in hopes of putting him back together a soldier for Lotor’s Empire.

“I don’t deserve to be a Paladin anymore. Not after everything I’ve done.” he stood, gritting his teeth against the crash of Blue’s fear and denial, the frantic _mineminemine_ drumming in the back of his head. “Allura can keep taking my place.” he forced out through his teeth, and Blue yowled inside his head loud enough to make him stagger, another flash of memory flitting across his vision when he squeezed his eyes shut. Allura, punching the barrier because Blue wouldn’t let her in. Because Blue had denied her.

“Matt, then.” he gritted out, clutching his head with one hand as he staggered towards the door. “He’s driven, he’s brilliant, half the team already loves him.” he punched the door’s operation panel, but nothing happened. “Blue, please.” his voice hitched as he sank to his knees, forehead resting against the door. “Take Matt, mould him to replace me.” her roar in his head was the clearest denial he’d ever heard, but he forged on regardless. “I _broke_ him. That’s not the kind of thing Paladins _do_.”

Blue quieted all at once, her cockpit door sliding open, and Lance sniffled slightly. “Thank you.” he whispered hoarsely, getting to his feet again. The floor opened up in a gaping hole just a few feet from the door, sparking wires and dripping fuel lines intermixed with shorn and twisted metal. His work. His work that he’d been so _proud_ of just a few hours ago. Bile rose in his throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he jumped down to the floor below. It didn’t matter how easily Blue forgave him, how eager the team was to have him back in the fold. The druids had broken him and Lotor had put him back together wrong.

He had to leave.


	44. Chapter 44

Lance held his shoulders taut as he strode from Blue’s hangar, glad not for the first time that his mask completely hid his face. Nobody would know how much he’d been crying as long as he kept his head up, shoulders square, and voice steady. He coughed a few times, clearing his throat, and let his feet carry him towards the general hangar as he considered his next course of action. The first thing to mind, of course, was to return to his team, return to Midnight and pray that he could revive their bond, return to Lotor and let him wipe the memories of this whole incident from his head. He had a sinking feeling he’d already done that once before, though, and obviously it hadn’t worked. Plus, if he went back he’d have to bring Matt with, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to bring himself to do that right now.

So, if Lotor was out of the question, that meant he’d have to hide from both the Empire and the Coalition. Find a planet where he could disappear, and do just that. He had the skills to get hired as a pilot just about anywhere, and he was sure there were planets where not having a history or a formal education wouldn’t be much of a hinderance. He could get a job as a pilot, or some kind of security, live a normal life amidst aliens.

Normal. What did normal even mean anymore, this deep in space? Training with alien weapons, eating alien food, speaking and hearing alien languages. He could barely remember the last time he’d said more than a few words in Spanish, even just to himself. His chest tightened, and he squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of longing washed over him. More than anything, he wanted to go home. To steal a shuttle and ship himself across the galaxy back to the beach he’d known as long as he could remember, hug his moms again, spend time with his siblings, meet his newest nephew.

He wanted to go _home_.

He opened his eyes just in time to plow straight into Keith’s back, the Red Paladin stumbling forwards with a yelp before turning to face him. Great, just what he needed right now, more reminders of how he’d fucked them all over. “Lance, there you are!” Keith grinned, and wasn’t that a rare sight.

“Not now.” he said dismissively, making sure his shoulder knocked against Keith’s as he brushed past.

“Hey.” Keith caught him by the wrist, his grip firm but not tight enough to hurt. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Lance opened his mouth, but no answer came. He knew where he _wanted_ to go, but none of the shuttles would be able to make it there on their own power before he died of dehydration. The pause gave Keith enough time to circle around in front of him, a small scowl on his face. “Coran locked the hangars, you know. You’re not leaving.”

“Why, scared I’ll run back to Lotor and tell him everything?” he grinned mockingly behind his mask. “You must not have been listening back on the bridge.”

“No, you idiot.” Keith’s scowl deepened, his hand tightening on Lance’s wrist. “We only just got you back, why the hell would we let you leave?”

“Because you don’t want me.” he spat, pulling his wrist free when Keith’s grip loosened in shock. “You _never_ wanted me.” he bared his teeth, even as Blue lapped at the back of his mind insistently, a reminder that Lotor had lied about so, so many things and his own memories were untrustworthy. But for all the memories she’d shown him, not a one had included Keith. “I was stupid, weak, I couldn’t keep up with you or Shiro or Hunk.” he gritted his teeth, fists clenching as he recalled Keith teasing him for not being able to lift Pidge over his head. Had that even happened? Either way, it didn’t matter. He didn’t belong here anymore, even if he once had. “I’m leaving.”

“I’m not letting you.” Keith grabbed his wrist again, squeezing tight, and Lance gave him a flat look which was, regrettably, lost under his mask.

“You really think you can stop me?” he asked, catching Keith’s free wrist in his hand and squeezing.

“I can try.” Keith grinned, all teeth and no humour. Lance squeezed harder, and Keith clenched his jaw.

“Let me go, and I’ll stop.” he hissed, stepping into Keith’s personal space.

“Why do you even want to leave?” Keith grimaced, trying to pull his wrist free.

“Why wouldn’t I?” a laugh pulled itself from his throat, jagged and broken and wrong. “You didn’t want me before, and once you know what I’ve done you won’t want me now either. Why shouldn’t I leave, when you’ll want me gone soon enough anyways?”

Keith just stared at him, jaw hanging open, wrist nearly limp in his grasp.

“Speechless?” his face twisted in a jagged semblance of a smile, and Keith’s brow pinched as he closed his mouth to scowl at Lance again.

“How are you still so _dense_?” he spat, releasing Lance’s wrist to shove at his chest. “You’re the one who sacrificed yourself, dumbass!”

Blue’s presence lapped at the back of his mind, and Lance felt her nudge him slightly in Keith’s direction. He wasn’t sure if it was endearing or sad, that she thought a conversation with someone who’d always hated his guts would convince him to stay, to remain her Paladin.

“So tell me again, without being an idiot. Why do you want to leave?” he stepped forwards, putting them practically nose to nose, seemingly unbothered by Lance’s crushing grip on his wrist.

“How about you try listening, this time?” he hissed, leaning forward to press his mask against Keith’s face, flashing the eyes for effect. “You. Don’t. Want. Me.”

“We do.” Keith said, meeting Lance’s eyes unflinchingly. “Pidge wouldn’t saved you if we didn’t.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“And I don’t care.” Keith pulled back, his jaw set stubbornly. “None of us do.”

“You should.” Lance spat, his fingers flexing tighter. Keith winced.

“Why?” he pressed anyways, and both of Lance’s hands clenched reflexively.

“Because I’m a _monster_!” he shouted, using his free hand to shove Keith away and only releasing his wrist at the last second, forcing him to stagger backwards. “I’ve done things that can’t be forgiven, Keith. Things that _shouldn’t_ be forgiven.” his clenched and relaxed his fists at his sides, shoulders high and tense. “It doesn’t matter what you think, or the others, or even Blue. I’ve got too much blood on my hands to be worthy of being a Paladin.”

Keith stared at him, jaw hanging open even as he cradled the wrist Lance had been holding close to his chest. “You’re not a monster.” he said after a few long seconds of silence, when Lance’s heavy breaths were finally starting to even out.

“You don’t know me, Keith.” he ducked his head, eyes prickling hotly for lack of any tears to shed.

“I do.”

“Maybe you did.” he conceded. His memories were muddled and mangled enough that Keith could’ve been telling the truth, after all. “But I’m not the Lance you lost.”

“I think Blue would beg to differ.”

Lance felt a wave of smugness from the Lion in question, and gritted his teeth. In front of him, Keith sighed and turned away slightly. “C’mon. Come on up to the lounge, everyone’s been waiting for you.”

“Except you.” he said blandly. Keith just shrugged.

“Somebody had to be here to catch you before you got to the hangar.” he started towards the elevators, and Lance hesitated. He could make it to the hangar if he ran now, he’d always been faster than Keith and he didn’t doubt the difference was even more pronounced now. But he could feel Blue in his head, urging him to follow Keith, to reunite with his pride the way he’d reunited with her. Still, he hesitated. If he went back up to see them then they’d know, they would realize for themselves why he didn’t belong here and they’d throw him out again. For real this time.

“Lance?” Keith looked over his shoulder with a small, clearly concerned frown, and Lance crumbled.

“Coming.” he pulled up a paper thin grin and walked towards Keith. The hangars were locked down anyway, it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.


	45. Chapter 45

Hunk’s head snapped up at the sound of the door opening, and he shot to his feet as Keith walked in, halfway dragging Lance by the elbow.

“Quit being such a drama queen.” he huffed, and Lance made a plaintive little noise that didn’t sound fully human. “You wanna know what they think, just ask.”

Lance’s face was still fully covered by his druid-looking mask, but Hunk would’ve bet good money that he was glaring as he pulled his arm free and tucked it in close to his chest. His shoulders hunched up as he looked over the rest of them though, posture slumping as he curled in on himself like he was expecting rebuke. From what he’d said on the bridge, Hunk didn’t doubt that Lance expected them to be outright enemies. But he couldn’t just shoot straight for that when Lance was already defensive, not without putting him on guard further.

“Jeez, Keith.” he laughed, striding across the room with as much confidence as he could muster. “What’d you say to him?”

“Me?” Keith’s face scrunched up in an indignant pout. “Why’s it my fault?”

“Well, you two do have a bit of a record.” Shiro said. It sounded like he was smiling.

“You in particular.” Pidge sniggered. “Like that time when-”

“Finish that sentence and I’m hiding your computer.” Keith threatened quickly, and Hunk chuckled as he pulled Lance into a quick, tight hug.

“It’s good to have you back, buddy.” he beamed when he pulled away, placing his hands on Lance’s shoulders.

“Is it really?” Lance asked, and Hunk’s heart twisted at the roughness of his voice, the lingering thickness of a recent crying jag.

“Of course!” he affected a laugh, moving to slide an arm around Lance’s shoulders and usher him towards the sunken couches. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

That was, apparently, the exact wrong thing to say. Lance twisted free of his gentle grip faster than he’d thought a human could move, planting his feet and squaring his shoulders, hands curled in tight fists. “Why _wouldn’t_ it be?” he snarled, and Hunk realized belatedly that Lance was still speaking Galran. “Better question, why _would_ it be good to have a traitor in your midst?”

“Lance.” Allura said softly, but Lance was already backing up, fists clenched so tight they shook.

“No. Stop, just- just stop.” he shook his head, and Hunkn paused halfway to taking a step towards his friend. “You don’t want me. You don’t even _know_ me.”

“Lance, what are you talking about?” Shiro asked, rising from the couch and stepping up onto the floor level. “You’re part of the team, of course we know you. Of course we want you back.”

Lance shook his head stubbornly, and Hunk saw the way his shoulders shook, how his chest barely moved as he drew quick, shallow breaths. “You don’t.” he insisted. “I’m not the person you ga-” he cut himself off, sharp enough Hunk heard the faint click of his teeth against each other as his jaw snapped shut, and for a second he just stood there, head down, fists clenched, shoulders shaking. Hunk ached to pull him into a hug, but when he took a cautious step forwards Lance’s head snapped up.

“Don’t.” he choked out, and Hunk raised his hands in the universally understood signal of non-aggression.

“I’m not the person you remember.” Lance continued after clearing his throat. “I’ve done things. Bad things. Trust me, you don’t want me around. The person you miss doesn’t exist anymore.”

Silence fell when Lance finished speaking, heavy and absolute as they processed his words. What had Lotor and the druids made him do that he felt they couldn’t work past?

“I’m not convinced.” Pidge spoke up, getting up and walking over to stand at Hunk’s side. “If our Lance really is dead, then why did you keep this?” they reached into the duffel hanging from their shoulder, and pulled out a battered blue helmet. Lance gasped, and Pidge held the helmet out to him.

“Even after Lotor and the druids messed with your head, you found this and held onto it. You kept it in your room through the destruction of two orbital stations, on display for anyone to see.” Pidge crossed their arms as Lance lifted the helmet from their grip with both hands, cradling it like it was something infinitely precious. “If you’re not our Lance, then why bother?”

Lance’s fingers curled against the armour in his hands, dragging paler stripes through the mess of dust and scorch marks. “Because I-” Lance’s voice caught, and Hunk closed the distance between them in two steps, pulling Lance into a hug with his helmet caught between their breastplates.

“Please, Lance.” he murmured, tucking his friend’s head against his shoulder. “We rescued you for a reason.”

“You don’t understand.” Lance’s voice cracked, his arms coming up around Hunk’s back to grip at his armour even as he shook his head. “When you know, you won’t want me anymore.”

“We could never.” Hunk swore, holding Lance tighter.

“Please.” Lance’s breath hitched in a strangled sounding hiccup. “Please, just let me leave on my own terms this time.”

“You say that like you didn’t set the terms last time, too.” Shiro chuckled lamely, and Hunk lifted his head to see the rest of the team had circled up around him and Lance. “Didn’t even ask, just threw yourself in because it was the fastest way to save a life.” his prosthetic hand dragged down the back of Lance’s head, and Lance made another broken little sound against Hunk’s shoulder.

“We don’t blame you, Lance.” Allura said softly, resting a hand on the back of Lance’s shoulder. “When I looked into your mind, I saw so much druid magic...” she shook her head, and put on a small smile. “If the Blue Lion has so readily forgiven you the damage dealt to her, then we can forgive whatever else you’ve done.”

Lance mumbled something into his armour, and Hunk sighed as he rubbed a hand over the un-armoured part of his friend’s back. “Didn’t catch that.”

Lance pulled away, and Hunk let him. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I’ve done. I’ve aided and abetted in-”

“Don’t care.” Keith interrupted, punching Lance in the back of the shoulder. “There’s only one thing you’ve done that I can’t forgive you for.”

“Oh?” Lance turned to face Keith, crossing his arms. “And what’s that.”

“Chephin Five.” Keith lifted his chin, eyes hard. “You’re a Paladin, you’re not allowed to go sacrificing yourself like that.”

“I left Blue’s bayard for a reason.” Lance’s shoulders tensed, fingers curling against his rerebraces. “Blue already had a bond with Allura, and it’s not like it’s _hard_ to find a new Paladin for her. She doesn’t have a thing like your Lion does, or any of the others.” Lance looked aside, mask pointed at the ground by their feet. “She picked me, after all, and I was-”

Pidge’s hand flashed out and caught him at the edge of his mask before he could finish his sentence, and Hunk was sure Lance’s mouth dropped open as his head lifted to stare at the incensed Green Paladin. “You _idiot_!”

“We _looked_!” Keith shouted at the same time, reaching out and grabbing Lance by the arm to shake him near violently. “We looked everywhere when we realized Allura was a temporary measure, but Blue wouldn’t take _any_ of them!” he released Lance with a shove, sending him stumbling back into Hunk. “You’re not disposable, you’re _not_ replaceable, and I- I-”

“Keith and I’ll never forgive you for even _thinking_ that you ever were unless you promise to not do something that stupid ever again.” Pidge stepped forwards, un-slinging the bag of armour from their shoulder and holding it out. “So, promise?” they asked, and Lance slumped against him.

“Promise.” he murmured, pushing himself back up and reaching out to take the bag.

“Good to have you back.” Shiro clapped a hand on Lance’s shoulder, and Hunk beamed.

“Group hug?” he asked, holding out his arms hopefully. Lance huffed out a breathy laugh, his shoulders slumping.

“Sure, group hug.”

English had never sounded so good.


	46. Chapter 46

Keith tapped his fingers on his leg, glaring at the door without really seeing it. “He’s late.” he muttered, and Pidge kicked him.

“We know.”

“I’m sure he has a reason.” Shiro assured him, but the words sounded emptier than they had the last half dozen times. First Lance had missed breakfast, and now he was missing from morning training? He didn’t want to believe that Lance had snuck out somehow, not after they’d seemingly managed to get through to him yesterday before dinner, but why would he not show up?

The door finally slid open, and Keith straightened up as Lance walked in wearing his Paladin armour, still scuffed and scratched and battle-damaged but so clean it shone. The undersuit beneath lacked the distinctive colourful pauldrons and joint padding, but Keith supposed the castle might need an article given to the cleaning closet to know it needed repairs or replacement. “Sorry I’m late.” Lance grinned, and Keith’s eyebrows lifted as he took in his teammate’s face. Just as near-gaunt as he’d looked on that fateful video call, but his hair was looser, gathered back in a ponytail instead of slicked down with gel or whatever, and Keith thought his eyes weren’t quite so yellowed.

He looked, well, not good but better. Definitely better than he had before.

“What, you forget when we train?” Hunk teased, and Lance rolled his eyes.

“No, I just didn’t want to show up in half-cleaned armour.”

Keith’s eyebrows rose further on his forehead.

“You do remember that the closet will clean and repair it for you, right?” Shiro asked, and Lance nodded, pressing a hand to his breastplate.

“It just, felt important. Doing it myself this time.”

Shiro nodded in apparent understanding, and Pidge scooted over to sit next to Hunk so Lance could take his spot at Keith’s side and close the circle. “Alright, now since it’s Lance’s first day back we’ll be starting off slow. Once we’ve got this down, we should have time to run a few real drills in the Lions before lunch.” he picked up one of the mind meld headbands, and Keith put his own on with a little grimace. He still hated the texture of the little grippy pads on the end.

“Alright, you all know the drill.” Shiro shut his eyes, and Keith followed suit, channelling Red almost absentmindedly. He could feel Lance next to him, his presence a bright spot but... distant. A cold blue star, much to far off to touch. Keith reached out to him through the bond, and felt the others doing the same, trying to draw him closer, to pull the Blue Lion into their little holographic Voltron. Pidge and Hunk’s curiosity coloured their presence, and stirred his own mind with the same questions he was sure the left limbs of Voltron were currently asking themselves. Where had he been? How had Lotor convinced him to stay? What sort of things had he done that he thought they couldn’t forgive him for? Keith could practically hear Hunk asking that last question, his presence full to bursting with curiosity and a need to soothe, to reassure, to convince Lance he belonged here as much as he ever had.

“Would you all get _out of my head?_ ” Lance snapped, and Keith’s eyes snapped open to see the Blue Lion projection flickering out as Lance’s presence vanished.

“Lance, the whole point of this is that we’re in each other’s heads.” Shiro sighed. “We need to be in synch if we want to form Voltron, and unlike the last time we had trouble with these we don’t have a week to get it right. I promise you, there’s nothing in your head we haven’t already seen in some way, shape, or form.”

Lance fidgeted, and Keith elbowed him sharply in the side. “Chickening out?” he goaded, and there was the old fire in Lance’s eyes, the familiar stubborn set of his jaw, the look that he wore when he decided he wasn’t going to back down.

“Never.” he jammed the headset back on. “Alright, let’s do this.”

\---

Two hours later, they were... well, they were _closer_ to forming Voltron but it hadn’t actually clicked yet. They’d all get their Lions together in the middle, but Blue would stall just shy of actually connecting. “What is your problem?” he snapped as they failed, yet again, to connect. As Lance, at the very last second, shut them out and closed himself off.

“Like you don’t know.” Lance snapped right back, leaning in until they literally butted heads.

“Lance, Keith.” Shiro said sternly, and Lance sat up with a huff, crossing his arms.

“If you’d just stop trying to dig around in my head I wouldn’t have to keep pulling back.” Lance bit out.

“Well excuse me for wanting to make sure my best friend is okay after being brainwashed by druids.” Hunk crossed his arms.

“Hunk, please.” Shiro sighed, dropping his head into his organic hand. “Just, let Lance have his privacy for now. We can tackle the issue of what exactly the druids did once we’re back in synch and ready to face any emergencies that may pop up.”

“He’s not putting anything into the bond, though.” Pidge pointed out, and Keith belatedly realized they were right. Lance, their whole time sitting here, even when they were all reaching for him through the bond, had remained a blank. Present but featureless, where before Keith was sure Lance had been the one most guilty of emotional overflow.

“Right.” Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. “Hunk, Pidge, quit poking in Lance’s head. Lance, try to open up a bit? We’re a team, we have to be in-tune with each other.”

Lance nodded stiffly, and they set to it again. Keith reached out to prod at Hunk and Pidge, their presences bursting with curiosity and worry, to brush against Shiro for that touch of calm and steady certainty, and when he reached out to Lance he felt... worry? Worry with an undercurrent of stubbornness, of pride. He opened his eyes, and cracked a smile at the sight of a holographic Voltron standing in the middle of the circle.

“Good job, team.” Shiro grinned, rising from his kneel with an easy grace and no hint of a complaining groan. “Now, who’s ready to try it in the Lions?”

Keith’s knees and ankles complained when he pushed himself to his feet, but he ignored the discomfort as he took off his mind meld headband and headed over to the little bin they all went in. Lance trailed behind him, eerily silent, and once they’d both dropped off their headbands he fell in step next to Lance instead of ahead of him. “I’ve got a question.”

“Shoot.”

“What’s up with your eyes?” he gestured at his own, and Lance lifted a hand to touch just above his cheekbone.

“My eyes?”

“They’re yellow?”

Lance quickly looked away from him, his hand lingering on his face. “Right.” he murmured, absently tracing the edge of his eye. “They are, aren’t they.”

“It’s okay, ykno.” Keith knocked Lance’s shoulder with his own. “Whatever you did for Lotor, it’s okay. You survived, and that’s what matters.”

Lance snorted, his hand falling from his face. “Sure.”


	47. Chapter 47

Lance flopped back in his bed with a groan, pulling his old helmet on before he let his head hit the pillow. Not that he was going to be getting any sleep tonight, either. He groaned again, dragging his hands down his mask as he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. This had been an awful idea, his worst one yet, and that was saying something. He missed Lotor, missed his emperor so bad it was like a physical ache throughout his body, though that may also have been due to the rounds he’d done with the gladiator during afternoon training.

His brain throbbed inside his head, and he pulled the pillow over his face, dialing up the filter on his mask as high as it went. With his HUD dismissed, no light at all filtered through his closed eyelids. After a whole day pretending to not be bothered by the quintessence light pouring from what seemed like every surface, to experience actual darkness was the greatest possible blessing. He rolled onto his side with another groan, and began cataloguing his various aches and pains. There was the radiant ache in his limbs, the slight stiffness in his joints, a general feeling of exhaustion, a layer of gross from his sweat pooling inside his suit, and of course the pounding in his head. An alert beeped in his ear, and he rolled onto his back to swat at the low table next to the bed. Only, this wasn’t his room on the orbital station. His hand passed through empty air twice before he remembered that, and he groaned again as he pressed his head back against the mattress.

Last night Lotor hadn’t known yet, probably. Nobody would’ve told him until Lance failed to make his call, for fear of invoking his wrath. Tonight... Lance heaved a sigh and pushed himself up, setting to removing his Paladin armour. Better safe than sorry, when it came to his emperor. He tossed his armour in the general direction of the closet, too weary to get up and make sure it was properly inside to activate the cleaning and repair sequence, and once he was down to his boxer-briefs he flopped back down on the bed. The cool air felt glorious on his sweaty skin, and for a few minutes he just floated on that feeling. Then he felt the ring around his cock tighten and start vibrating, and dragged a low groan out of his throat with some effort.

What was this, a punishment for not breaking out fast enough? The hangars with the regular shuttles in them were still locked down tight, and even if Blue wasn’t so easily traced it physically hurt to look at her without his old helmet on, let alone pilot her. He pressed his thighs together, squeezed his eyes shut, and hugged the pillow to his face as he whimpered his emperor’s name helplessly.

Thankfully the vibrator shut off after only a few minutes, and when his heart rate finally slowed down the ring loosened to its normal gentle pinch. He shifted uncomfortably, blinked hard against the tears lingering in the corners of his eyes. Lotor was probably looking for him right now, that was what the pulse was meant to tell him. That his emperor was searching for him, as he’d done after the rebel attack. His stomach churned uneasily at the memory of his time in that little mountain base, the haze between waking in a hospital bed and an alien barging in to say Lotor was on his way, the look on Matt’s face after he murdered four allies in cold blood.

His asshole throbbed at the memory of the week that had followed, and he pressed his hands to his mask with a groan. Lotor had given him an impossible task to earn a paltry reward, that night. Had ignored him, the following days, when he sobbed that it was too much. Blue’s cool presence wrapped around him, and he shivered hard at the sharp chill on his sweaty skin. Lotor loved him, he was sure of that. But, he’d also been sure that Blue and the Paladins had given him up willingly, and they’d all denied that adamantly and repeatedly. His stomach grumbled, and he groaned once more. Choking down even a few sporkfuls of food goo, even Hunk’s food goo, had been a herculean task after months of actual _food_ on Lotor’s ship and his own orbital stations.

His stomach growled again, and Lance grimaced at the sound. He should eat, he knew that he should eat, but it just sounded... bad. Getting up, getting dressed, taking off his mask and re-igniting his headache just for another few unsatisfying mouthfuls of alien goo. No, he’d just lie here and hope that tonight exhaustion would win out over booster-induced insomnia.

\---

Unfortunately, he wasn’t exhausted enough to snatch more than a varga or so of a light doze before the clock in his HUD flashed at him to show it was officially morning. He knew he should get up and go train, should stick to his existing schedule as much as possible, but the ache in his limbs and joins hadn’t faded at all overnight. If anything it had gotten worse, and when he pushed himself up to sit with his legs over the edge of the bed his head spun. His stomach twisted in knots, growling and empty, and he hunched over as he pressed both forearms across his middle.

He had to- had to- he stood, and swayed dangerously on his feet. He had to shower, first things first. Shower, then hit the training room and see if he couldn’t get his body to remember that he was supposed to be hungry. As unappetizing as food goo was, he wasn’t likely to get anything else while he was here. And he didn’t doubt that he’d be stuck here for a long time. If Lotor could track him, he’d be back with his emperor by now. The thought of returning should’ve made his heart soar, but all he felt was a pulse of pain from his cock ring and something heavy settling in his gut, effectively killing what little appetite he’d managed to dredge up.

He cleaned himself robotically, [eyes shut against the quintessence light as he removed his helmet to wash his hair], and when he went to brush his teeth he was confronted with a neat line of products. He didn’t recognise the script on the labels, or remember what they were for, and his stomach twisted again. He missed his room on the latest orbital station, missed its casually opulent bathroom and the array of skincare products he’d accumulated on the counter next to the sink, missed the shower that made him feel like he was standing in a rainstorm back home. His hand tightened around the little jar in his hand, and he threw it at the wall with a shout. It didn’t shatter, but the lid snapped off and pale greenish cream splattered across the metal. He swept the rest of the products into the trash can at the end of the counter, and ran his hands roughly through his hair, a frustrated snarl building in his throat.

“What am I _doing_ here?” he asked the ceiling, pulling his head back by the curled tips of his hair. He should be long gone by now, back at Lotor’s side with updated information on the castle’s systems, back with his team and praising them for holding their own against Voltron so soon after being given their Jackals. He released his hair and slumped forward, bracing his arms on the counter. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Blue’s admonishment swept over him like a breaking wave, capped by a flare of _Mine_ , and he slumped further until his head rested against the alien material of the counter. “I shouldn’t.” he mumbled, and Blue’s disapproval filled him with a cold that permeated even the heavy emotions settled low in his gut, making his insides twist and squirm. “I want to go back.” he admitted, his voice coming out small. Even knowing that Lotor had lied about so much, even knowing that he would never be able to believe those lies again without having Narti scrub this whole event from his memory, he still ached to return to his emperor’s side. To stand where Lotor allowed no other to stand, and receive praise that Lotor gave to him and him alone.

His head was already starting to hurt from the crystal blue light glaring all around him, but he couldn’t put his helmet back on until his hair was dry or it’d be gross all day. He squeezed his eyes shut and hunched further over the counter, swallowing hard against the sudden urge to hurl. He had to focus on the facts, focus on the positive. He no longer had to call Lotor every night, though he’d still reached for the holodot unthinkingly yesterday, and the punishment for missing a call was honestly more manageable than performing for his emperor had been. It hurt his heart to even think such a thing, as did the knowledge that if he had a holodot he would still call Lotor.

Blue nudged him to stand up, and he gave a nod as he reached for his toothbrush, eyes still shut against the light, for what little good it did. As long as the Paladins were invested in trying to convince him they actually cared, they would never let him return to Lotor. If he wanted to get back, he would have to show them the full truth, but every fiber of his body recoiled at the very idea of doing that. Much as he wanted to be back at his emperor’s side, he couldn’t deny that he didn’t want the Paladins to think less of him. He hadn’t even been able to tell them what he’d helped Orshan do to Matt, how was he supposed to related the war crimes he’d so willingly committed in the name of the Emperor? How was he supposed to tell them that his heart still beat for someone they derided as an enemy?

When he finished brushing his teeth he was no closer to any kind of answers.


End file.
